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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192206">why are you here</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goshdangheck/pseuds/Goshdangheck'>Goshdangheck</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Eminem (Musician), Machine Gun Kelly (Musician)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Daddy Kink, Developing Power Dynamics, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotions and Stuff, M/M, Non-Erotic Pain Play, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Tension, nauseating fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:20:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,384</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goshdangheck/pseuds/Goshdangheck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eminem goes to visit MGK after a show and talk to him about how their beef ended.</p><p>*Author update:<br/>I have not abandoned this as you can see. HOWEVER...</p><p>Due to my lack of planning and generally who I am as a person, this hot little mess is up for an entire rewrite at some point when I find the time. But for now I’m just gonna keep writing it and see where it goes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Colson Baker | Machine Gun Kelly/Eminem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>341</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>SO, this is my humble contribution to the limited selection of the Eminem/MGK pairing. This coronavirus and social distancing has me with too much time on my hands.</p><p>First time writing something like this, so tell me what ya think. Toying with the idea of turning this into a multi chapter work, but it could stand alone.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Kelly,” a familiar voice said, sending the blond rapper spinning in his chair in mild disbelief.</p><p>Standing in the doorway of his dressing room was the last person he’d ever expected to see at one of his shows, wearing a simple hoodie and jeans but looking larger than life. The blond stared for a minute, the shock of being in the presence of his idol rendering him temporarily speechless until his brain caught up and he realized he was staring with his mouth wide open. He snapped it shut, feeling stupid. </p><p>The older rapper’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Something on my face?”</p><p>“What in the fuck are you doing backstage at my show?” Kelly blurted. The only upside, he thought, embarrassed, was that he sounded pissed instead of awed.</p><p>Eminem’s eyes widened in a mocking display of innocence as he jabbed a thumb back over his shoulder. “Those guys outside let me in,” he told him. “Gee, I hope thats ok?” </p><p>Without waiting for an answer, the bearded rapper strolled in and proceeded to throw himself on the couch opposite, while Kelly debated on whether he ought to fire his body guards. “The real question, Kells, is why you’re so surprised to see me. You were practically begging me to come down here and teach you a lesson.” Despite the implication of his words, the older rapper settled in, stretching his legs out and scooting his hips forward a little, making himself comfortable. He looked around.</p><p>This is fucking weird, Kelly decided. He watched with increasing confusion as Eminem… The Eminem, who he stupidly wrote an entire diss track about… who was the reason for the boos he’d experienced on stage this evening while attempting to perform said diss track… made himself at home on his couch, and helped himself to a bottle of water from his mini fridge. The older rapper rubbed his beard then started to unscrew the top on the water bottle. Took a sip, re-screwed it.</p><p>Kelly already knew he’d lost the beef. Killshot had quite literally left him without ammo for a return diss. It had been a bittersweet moment, simultaneously being acknowledged by the goat himself with a response, while watching his career as a rapper take a nosedive. Every show since had earned him a fair share of boos from his own fans when he tried to perform Rap Devil. Now, the rapper who’d inspired him was sitting expectantly on his couch after yet another booed set. </p><p>Shit. Had Eminem been here long enough to watch him get booed? Kelly grimaced and tried to decide how best to proceed.</p><p>“I already heard your track, coulda been worse,” he started, immediately regretting his choice of words. He forgot where he was going with it anyway as blue eyes locked with his. </p><p>“Yeah, I know ya heard it,” Eminem agreed. “So did your audience, I think.”</p><p>So he had seen that. Fucking perfect.</p><p>Eminem read the thoughts easily. “Yeah, I’ve been here a little while. I watched your interview too. Adorable. Its always satisfying watching an opponent realize they’re beaten. Though calling you an opponent is a bit of a stretch.”</p><p>Kelly felt his neck heat up at that, humility warring with the chip on his shoulder. If he were being completely honest with himself, it may have been in part because another man, Eminem in fact, called him ‘adorable’. <i>Kill me now.</i> The older man had clearly come here to rub salt in the wound. “If thats what you took from that,” he swallowed around the urge to cuss the other man out, “why the fuck are you here, exactly?”</p><p>Eminem made a big show of thinking about that, blowing out a lungful of air and leaning his head back. It pissed Kelly off more than he’d like to admit that Eminem in real life was practically oozing charisma, even while dressed in a simple, possibly even cheap gray hoodie. The pale color paired with the dark brown of his hair and the light blue of his eyes was oddly striking for being so casual. The blond couldn’t help but watch every move the other man made, quite miserably. In contrast, he himself was wearing a fluffy white jacket, skinny jeans and no shirt. While he had felt very confident getting dressed before the show, he now felt a lot like a preened bird of paradise in front of the veteran battle rapper.</p><p>“Well, Kelly, yeah that’s what I took from it; It wasn’t much of a contest. But here’s the thing.” The bearded rapper leveled a look at him. “We need to chat a little about your… motives.”</p><p>“Don’t get me wrong here,” he continued, catching the younger man’s eyes, “like I said on the track, good effort. I’m not even upset about it, and I may have gone a little hard on you. I’m not the hothead I once was, but I admit to overreacting at times.”</p><p>Who the fuck does he think he is? Kelly scowled, not liking the fluttery feeling he was experiencing in response to the other man’s tone of voice. <i>Its Eminem, that’s who he thinks he is</i>, his brain supplied. <i>Like a damn force of nature.</i></p><p>Eminem ignored the younger rapper’s internal dialogue and continued thoughtfully, “After I got to thinking about it, it occurred to me that maybe you just wanted a bit of attention.”</p><p>The younger rapper felt his blood boil at that insinuation.</p><p>“Whatever helps you jerk off at night old man,” Kelly sneered cockily. “Now that we’ve ‘cleared that up’ or whatever, you can fuck off back to your fortress of solitude and play some games or yell at twitter or whatever it is you do when you aren’t beefing with people half your age.”</p><p>“You say ‘old man,’ but my age doesn’t stop me from from spanking you like a brat in the studio, Kelly. In fact I think you kinda liked it.” </p><p>Kelly felt his cheeks getting hot and he lost it, standing abruptly and getting in the other’s face. “Man you are so full of yourself. At least half of the fans out there think I won that feud, so as far as I’m concerned, we are <i>even</i> gramps. I’m not gonna respond cus I don’t need to. I ain’t got nothing to prove to you or to anyone else. So you can now merrily <i>fuck. Off</i>. Before I make you.” The blond stood challengingly with his feet wide, ready to beat up the old man if he didn’t leave. He didn’t quite know how to feel in that moment, didn’t like the way his idol’s taunting words hit so close to home. Eminem however, did not leave, instead took another swig from his (stolen) water bottle after snorting out a disbelieving chuckle.</p><p>Marshall simply looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “And do what? Snap those skinny arms trying to take a swing at me? Come on, kid. Sit.” He patted the seat next to him like an invitation. Like he wasn’t on <i>Kelly’s</i> couch in Kelly’s dressing room. “Unless you wanna threaten some fake gangster shit at me again, which I know was bull, how about you be a good little bitch and accept the attention you were begging for.”</p><p>Kelly was NOT blushing. “Yo, you may be used to people just putting up with your ass, but I didn’t invite you back here and quite frankly if you stick around much longer I’ll—“</p><p>Em stood abruptly, the new position placing his face inches from Kelly’s own, his intense blue eyes dangerous. “You’ll what?” </p><p>The blond rapper swallowed reflexively and took a step back.</p><p>The light teasing tone was gone. The shorter man’s intensity changed in an instant as Kelly found himself walked back into the nearby wall.  He gasped as he felt the brick against his back. “I think,” Eminem growled, “you won’t do shit.” He placed a hand over Kelly’s shoulder, blocking him in, the sudden proximity and scent of Eminem’s cologne sending a sharp stab of arousal through the younger man. He bit his lip as the older man continued. ”I think that when you listened to Killshot the first time, you blushed like a schoolgirl at the imagery I put there, saw yourself nestled between my legs with a mouthful of Daddy’s cock.” </p><p>The wanton sound that left the blond’s throat surprised him. His dick thickened heavily between his legs, throbbing at the vivid picture placed there by the older man’s words. Eminem smirked darkly, eyes trained on Kelly’s mouth.</p><p>“I think you got off on the sound of me saying your name. Pretty little slut like you trying to act tough, when what you really need is to be put in your place. Dissing me just to get my attention so I’d come up in your shit exactly like I am now.” </p><p>“Sonnova bitch…” Kelly said shakily, plastered against the wall with his blood boiling from both anger and confused arousal. Eminem kept talking. “Look at you, dressed like a cheap whore but with your hair dyed blond to look like me. All those tattoos. You like a little pain, baby boy? When I said I’d spanked you, did you imagine that too?”</p><p>He tried to fight it but could see it anyway; himself draped over the other man’s lap with one of Eminem’s big hands gripping is bare red ass before pulling back and slapping heavily as he ground his hips down. Before he could stop himself, he whimpered loud enough that Eminem chuckled. “That’s right, sweetheart. You got a diss track but what you really wanted was for Daddy to bend you over and punish you with his hand for disrespecting him.”</p><p>He wasn’t even touching him, just hovering heavily and breathing in the same air, growling the dirtiest things he’d ever heard with the same masterful delivery Kelly had grown used to hearing in his music. It hit exactly how Eminem wanted it to, finding all the buttons and pushing them just right. The blond was panting heavily, eyes locked with the older rapper’s blue, trying so hard not to cum in his pants like a teenager.</p><p>“Keep trying to convince the world you think I’m washed and lame, but make sure you say my name when you cum into your little fist after I leave.”</p><p>With that, Eminem pushed off the wall, gave the younger rapper a lewd once over, and left.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to those who left comments. I appreciate you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The door clicked shut and air that had been sucked out of the room returned in a whoosh and Kelly remembered how to breathe. He slumped his head back and took labored inhales through his nose, shakily letting them out through his mouth. </p><p>One hand reached up and tangled in his hair, tugging at the base of his skull in frustration. His other hand slipped down to grab the throbbing erection tenting his pants and he groaned, applying pressure for a moment to take the edge off before clenching his fist at his side.</p><p>“Goddamn motherfucking, fuck, FUCK!” </p><p>He’d been thoroughly sonned just now. Belittled, talked up and humiliated. Turned to putty by nothing but the expert tongue of his idol, <i>talking</i>. Just. Talking.</p><p>The blond felt hot all over and opted to throw his jacket across the room. It didn’t make him feel better. Eyeing the couch, he gingerly adjusted himself, hissing at how good it felt, before lying down where Eminem had just been. He felt a crunch under his shoulder. “Shit.” Reaching around awkwardly he extracted the stolen water bottle that Em had left behind. It was mostly full. “Asshole didn’t even take his trash.” He threw that too, and watched as the cap burst off as it hit the wall, dropping and losing its contents all over the floor. Kelly couldn’t care less.</p><p>Without thinking, his hand found its way down to cup his dick through his pants and he bit his lip to keep from moaning, squeezing his eyes shut in shame. He could still hear echos of Eminem’s voice, the words he’d said. <i> Thats right, sweetheart </i>. Kelly gripped himself, throbbing at the memory, his hips bucking at the sensation of precum slicking the inside of his underwear. He threw an arm over his eyes.<i> Be a good little bitch, and accept the attention you were begging for. </i></p><p>The words had affected him too much. For all he knew, Eminem wasn’t even remotely gay, which meant that had been nothing but a sadistic power play. Kelly recalled the older man’s final words and a renewed sense of defiance bubbled up.</p><p><i>No,</i> Kelly thought,<i> I won’t give the fucker the satisfaction.</i> He tore his hand away from his dick and pulled his phone out of his pocket, ignoring the still very insistent desire to do just what the brunette had ordered. It wasn’t like he’d know….</p><p>But what if he did? Just like he’d known exactly how the younger man would react to Killshot. He <i>had</i> blushed the deepest shade of red he was capable of, glad he’d decided to listen to the track alone. The motherfucker was probably riding home right now, laughing at the younger man’s desperation, knowing Kelly would finish himself off moaning his name. Fuck that. Wasn’t gonna happen.</p><p>Scrolling his contacts, he stumbled on a number he’d saved last weekend labeled ‘Sarah’. He had been a bit drunk at the time, but he recalled a petite brunette with a nice ass and small tits who had been more than a little eager to save her name in his phone. She had been cute but a little too giggly, so he’d hesitated to follow up. <i>Desperate times,</i> he thought, typing out a quick text. He grinned triumphantly when less than a minute later his phone pinged out a response, swung his legs down off his couch and grabbed his coat off the floor. Feeling optimistic, he ordered an Uber and headed out into the night. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p>Marshall’s nose scrunched approvingly as the beat Royce sent him boomed through his studio. His friend had always been a man of many talents, but he’d been holding on him as a producer it seemed. Em tapped out a quick text telling Royce exactly that, along with his intent to use the beat on his next project, other hand already reaching for the pen and pad he always kept nearby. The familiar exhilaration of starting a new song was itching at him as ideas for new verses materialized in his mind, demanding to be written. Flipping to a fresh page he started jotting down lines, head bobbing.</p><p>“Yo this is Royce?” Denaun looked up from his laptop. “Huh.” </p><p>Em had almost forgotten he was there and blinked over at him, hand still moving. “Yeah, seriously. He’s getting incredible.” His eyes dropped back to his paper and Denaun chuckled. </p><p>“Well looks like you’re about to be in your own world for a while. I’ma head out, got some things to do. Oh, you been on twitter in a minute?”</p><p>“Nah, not for like a week, why?”</p><p>“That Mgk kid still talking shit. Nothing crazy, just riding the clout til it runs out probably, but I know you like to know whats going on,” he shrugged, “anyway. Later.”</p><p>“Later.” Em frowned and watched him go. </p><p>Water Pistol Kelly was talking shit again huh. The brunette looked back at his paper, train of thought effectively derailed. Torn, he glanced sideways at his phone, then back to his paper. With a strange sort of anticipation Marshall snatched his phone and tapped the little blue and white twitter icon. As usual, he had an overflow of mentions. He scanned them, quickly finding what all the fuss was about. Many of them were fan comments linking back to MGK’s profile, his ridiculous Rap Devil photo causing Marshall to smirk. He tapped on the kid’s profile.</p><p>It hadn’t even been a week since Marshall had crashed Kelly’s show and already the kid wanted more? Eminem was happy to make time for his fans, but little Colson was getting a touch greedy. </p><p>Not that he minded. The bearded rapper hadn’t had that much fun in years. The vision the kid had made, cocksure expression wiped from his face, flustered, speechless and wrecked…. Marshall knew he had an addictive personality. Still, it surprised him how much he wanted to see that particular sight again.</p><p>He hummed in amusement as he found the most recent tweet. It was a couple of devil emojis and retweeted video clip from some user with the handle @devilworshipper. He turned the volume up and tapped the video, and a scene of what looked like a party filled the screen, a tipsy looking Machine Gun Kelly swaying with his arms around a cute brunette girl. Marshall frowned a little at the half empty liquor bottle the younger man was holding draped over the girl’s shoulder. </p><p>The blond rapper’s floppy hairdo was falling in his eyes as he smoldered the camera, once again hardly clothed. Slut. The girl however, also noticeably drunk, was the one who started talking. </p><p>“Yo I just wanted to let everyone out there know that all of us down here at the club agree, Mgk BODIED Eminem. Lets talk about it!!” she giggled obnoxiously up at Kelly who was laughing and pointing at her as if to say ‘check this chick out’.  There were a number of girls and other club goers who cheered at that in the background, and Kelly tossed the bottle up in salute. The blond tousled his already mussed hair and gave the camera the side eye before pushing a hand into it, ending the clip. </p><p>The shit talking was typical in an industry beef, though he was surprised the kid still hadn’t learned his lesson. Amusing though, that he wasn’t the one talking shit, but rather letting some fan do it for him. It was almost cute, in light of their most recent encounter. </p><p>The brunette replayed the clip a few times, his frown deepening. The kid was clearly drunk, and the older rapper wondered how much of that bottle had been consumed by the kid alone. He felt a certain way about it, watching the younger man hanging around all those sloppy young girls in the club with his eyes glazed over. The kid wasn’t making good choices. Maybe he owed the kid another visit.</p><p>Marshall exited out of twitter and made a call.</p><p>——————</p><p>Colson Baker groaned at the first, then second and third text alerts blowing up his phone, all of which were much too loud paired with the pounding headache he was currently trying to sleep off. Who the fuck was bugging him before 10am? He reached out blindly and grabbed at the offensive object, accidentally knocking it loudly to the floor. “Fuck me…” he swore. </p><p>A feminine voice complained wordlessly from the pillow next to him as his covers were tugged to the other side of the bed, sending an icy chill over his naked chest. He cursed and rolled out of bed, snatching the generic hotel robe off the foot of the bed as he went. Tripping slightly, he caught himself with a hand on his dresser and scooped his phone off the floor. </p><p>3 new text messages from an unrecognized number. He scowled at the notification and unlocked his screen to read them, heading for the balcony attached to his hotel room.</p><p>-Hey kid, we have a few things to discuss- the first read. Followed by -starting with that video on twitter-</p><p>-Its Marshall-</p><p>Kelly stared at his phone, not comprehending. Who the fuck was Marsh—- he fumbled a little and dropped his phone, heart pounding. Oh. Fuck. Marshall as in Mathers. </p><p>How did he get his number? </p><p>What fucking video? He pinched the bridge of his nose as he leaned down to pick up his phone again. Racking his memory for whatever video ‘Marshall’ wanted to ‘discuss’, he came up with nothing. The past couple days had been a bit foggy. He’d gotten caught up in a fair amount of partying, content to reward himself with a little fun until his next show, which wasn’t for another week. Truth was that he’d needed a distraction after what had been probably the most erotic experience of his life thus far, which ended in a feat of self-denial he wasn’t sure he could repeat. A combination of blow and booze had kept the older rapper almost completely out of mind, and Kelly was happy to keep riding that train through til the following Friday.</p><p>Kelly debated on how to respond, if at all, closing the door behind him and sinking into one of the patio chairs. What could the older rapper possibly want to talk about? Wants to humiliate him some more most likely. The blond rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand and yawned miserably, wishing he’d hydrated better the night before. As he did that another ping sounded from his phone. </p><p>-No way you’re still sleeping. Its like 9:30-</p><p>Kelly snorted and started typing without really thinking things through. He hit send.</p><p>-Breakfast at the nursing home may be that early but some of us don’t have a bedtime, gramps-</p><p>Not the wittiest comeback, but it was fucking early. Kelly watched somewhat nervously as the ellipses appeared letting him know the other man was responding. </p><p>-Good, you’re up.-<br/>
…<br/>
-I’ll be at your hotel in 20 minutes. Kick the girl out.-</p><p>How did he know there was a girl….</p><p>Kelly’s face drained of color as the reality of what he just read caught up to his hungover brain. “Oh, motherfucker.” He leaped up, regretting the movement instantly as his stomach roiled in protest, but he ignored it and headed back inside the room. “Yo, wake up,” he called over to the bed. The girl mumbled something and he repeated himself. “Seriously, you gotta go, I have-“ he struggled a moment for words, “-a thing,” he finished lamely. “Forgot about it. But yeah I need you out in like 10. Sorry.” </p><p>“Fucking serious?” the girl, he forgot her name, slid out of bed reluctantly and headed to the bathroom, gathering her clothes at she went and shooting him a nasty look. Kelly couldn’t bring himself to care. </p><p>Eminem was coming here? The man must have some sketchy ass connections if he knew where he was staying, but he probably just got his number from the record label. The blond didn’t doubt Em could get get whatever information he wanted from Interscope with just a phone call. </p><p>The blond looked around frantically until he found the pants he wore the night before, found them, pulled them on. Eyed the tshirt, a trendy thing full of holes, and pulled that on as well. It smelled like sweat. He pulled it off with a curse and tossed it behind the chair. Where the fuck was his suitcase?</p><p>The girl came out of the bathroom and started gathering her things far too slowly for Kelly’s taste, and he brushed past her to get some time in there before Eminem showed up. He had to piss and he was sure his breath was disgusting. It wasn’t until he was spitting out toothpaste that he bothered to wonder why he was trying so damn hard. He ought to lock his door and go back to bed. Put some security outside or something. He didn’t have to just roll over and let Marshall Mathers usurp his morning. Because he what, made him pop a boner once? He wasn’t some girl. Fuck him.</p><p>New plan in mind, he stomped out of the bathroom. The girl, Kelly was surprised she was still there, was writing her number on a piece of paper. He rolled his eyes while her back was turned, praying she would just fucking leave without doing too much talking. </p><p>“So, maybe call me, I guess,” she said, and Kelly started ushering her towards the door. “Yeah right, I’ll uh, see you around.” He opened the door, and there with a fist raised to knock, was Eminem. Kelly felt his stomach flip.</p><p>The look the girl gave Kelly was thunderous, but then she turned around and saw who was standing there. Her eyes went wide as saucers. Kelly panicked, pushed her out the door, grabbed Eminem’s arm and pulled him inside. <i>This morning is getting off to a weird start</i>, Kelly thought as the brunette rapper gave him an incredulous look. The girl opened her mouth to say something and Kelly slammed the door shut. </p><p>Smooth Colson, fucking smooth. </p><p>Eminem took that opportunity to laugh at him, “Well that was awkward for you.” The older man turned and strolled into the room like he owned it. He plucked the girl’s phone number off the coffee table, frowned, and tossed it in the trash. </p><p>“Once again,” Kelly said, forehead thudding against the closed door. “You show up, BARELY announced, and now some random chick has seen you come into my fucking hotel room.”</p><p>“I texted you first,” Eminem told him, unconcerned, like that was even a fucking excuse.</p><p>“I said ‘barely’, you asshole.”</p><p>“Worried about how that could look for you, Kelly? Me showing up at your hotel room?”</p><p>The motherfucker was enjoying this. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. It looks really weird.” He turned around to find Eminem half sitting on the edge of his unmade bed, picking up a red thong. </p><p>“Your ‘random chick’ left her slut string behind,” he said, mouth in a thin line. "Unless this is actually yours?</p><p>“Dude, shut up.” Kelly slid into an armchair and fought a wave of nausea. “Ugh.”</p><p>“And you look like shit. Party a little bit last night?” Em pushed off the bed and walked to the trash, throwing the thong in after the phone number.</p><p>Kelly watched him, not really caring about the girls things, but curious why Eminem felt the need to toss them. “What are you my fucking dad now?”</p><p>Em actually laughed, rubbed his beard and turned. He looked Kelly up and down. “I give you a whole 20 minutes warning and you’re still half naked. You are unbelievable.”</p><p>Kelly resisted the urge to cover himself, “Shut up, it was maybe 10, and I can’t find my suitcase.” He was starting to get angry. “You text me —you shouldn’t even have my number, by the way— fucking <i>early</i> and tell me you wanna talk about some video? But all you’ve done is bitch about stupid shit. I don’t feel great, and I wasn’t expecting to spend my morning with Slim fucking Shady in my room so cut a guy some slack.” The corner of Em’s mouth ticked up in what could have been a smile. “What do you want anyway?”</p><p>The older rapper didn’t answer, instead pulled out his phone and leaned back against the bed. Tapped at it for a few minutes, then tucked it back in his pocket. “Ordered some food. You’ll feel better after you eat.”</p><p>The fuck? “Ooookay,” Kelly said, then groaned around another wave of nausea. “I’m gonna shower. Believe it or not, you didn’t give me shit for time before barging in here.” Showering with someone waiting on him wasn’t something he’d normally do, but he didn’t care that he was being rude at this point. He needed a minute to gather his thoughts and he stunk. A shower ought to set him straight. </p><p>Surprisingly, Eminem wasn’t offended. “Yeah, do that,” he agreed and started tapping at his phone screen. “Food will be like 15 minutes anyway and talking to your bitchy ass before you eat doesn’t appeal to me much. Your suitcase is right here,” he kicked back with his foot and something thudded under the bed. He moved to the side a little and indicated with a nod that Kelly should come get it. “Assuming you don’t wanna walk around naked? I know how much you like doing that.”</p><p>Fucker. </p><p>He rolled his eyes and stomped over, not wanting to give the other man the rise he wanted, but unable to stop himself. Em really was standing super close to where his suitcase was peeking out. “Could you…” he trailed off, gesturing. Em kept tapping at his phone, but the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “Nah, I’m just way too comfortable where I am,” he said, looking up long enough to wink at him. <i>Nothing like a game of gay chicken before coffee,</i> Kelly thought bitterly.</p><p>Gritting his teeth angrily, he bent down anyway, his face ending up mere inches away from the other man’s lower body. As he grabbed his suitcase his eyes drifted sideways and lingered just a moment. The brunette cleared his throat and Kelly jumped, glancing up to see amused blue eyes staring down at him.</p><p>He stomped off to the bathroom and slammed the door. </p><p>Sadistic bastard. After turning on the shower, Kelly popped open his suitcase and yanked out a change of clothes with a bit more force than was really necessary and draped them over the sink. Grumbling, removed his jeans and stepped under the spray, wondering when he became so goddamn thirsty for old man dick. <i>Not just any old man,</i> his ever unhelpful brain reminded him. <i>This one. Your idol since childhood. And he’s a fucking asshole.</i> </p><p>Kelly was not the most introspective guy, he had better things to do usually than mope around thinking about his problems. Some favorite coping methods included doing plenty of drugs and having sex, preferably with women. Being a creative, he also managed to channel a lot of whatever he had going on through music. Ever since he’d lost the rap beef, however, confidence had been in low supply, so he’d fallen back rather heavily on the first two. </p><p>Neither one of those things could help him with his current problem. There was no life manual for what to do when the man you’ve looked up to most of your young life discovers his new hobby of using filthy language to humiliate you. More specifically, what do you do when the humiliation really kinda does it for you?</p><p>The view a few minutes before, Eminem’s laughing eyes looking down at him while he knelt down eye-level with his dick, was burned into his corneas. Humiliating? Yes. He looked down at his swelling manhood in dismay, then soaped up in a businesslike manner but took his time letting the water beat down on him. He washed his mutinous dick last, biting his lip hard to keep from moaning, the soapy water slick and creating a delicious friction he did not have time for right now. Turning the knob all the way to ice cold, he rinsed that problem away and stepped out shivering. </p><p>When he was finally dressed in a simple tshirt and jeans without too many holes, he gave himself a once over and started arranging his hair. Realizing what he was doing, he sneered at his reflection and muttered, “you’re a fucking chick, Colson,” under his breath. Stomach fluttering, he headed back out to where a certain famous asshole was presumably waiting to ruin his day.</p><p>The food had arrived at some point and Eminem sat at the small table in the room drinking from a go-cup, still on his phone. Seeing Kelly, he set the phone aside. “Feel better now, princess? Come eat something.”</p><p>Kelly was not likely to get used to those pet names any time soon he realized, as his traitorous dick twitched with interest. This morning was gearing up to be completely miserable. </p><p>Sliding into the second chair, he dug out a bagel that was already prepared with cream cheese and smoked salmon, which Kelly decided was a definite upside to this whole thing. He took a huge bite and grabbed the remaining go-cup full of coffee. It had cream and sugar already. He immediately began feeling human again, and almost able to forgive the man in front of him, who was leisurely sipping coffee and watching him. Almost.</p><p>A tiny part of his brain, the part that was still very much an Eminem fan, was in awe that he was casually eating breakfast with Marshall Mathers in his hotel room.</p><p>“Thanks for this,” he waved the bagel a little, determined not to let his fanboy thoughts run away with him. “So…video?”</p><p>“Right,” Em unlocked his phone and slid it towards Kelly. “I don’t like this,” he told him, showing him something that Kelly didn’t expressly recall retweeting, but all the same appeared to have been done by him. He tapped it, curious what could have annoyed the other man so much. The video played through, like a scene out of someone else’s life. “I don’t remember this,” he admitted. He looked up and saw Em watching him intently. He made a face “…this is a problem because….?”</p><p>“First of all, <i>why</i> don’t you remember it? Drinking til you black out? Classy. You don’t see how that sort of behavior is beneath you?” Em asked, apparently pretty pissed. “What are you on here, coke? Do you even know those people?”</p><p>The blond’s eyebrows were practically in his hairline. Em was straight giving him a lecture. </p><p>Kelly thought he might know what the problem was.</p><p>“Hate to break it to you, but not everyone is on your team, and your haters love to hate you. So what she thinks I won, deal with it.” He nodded and bit his bagel, satisfied he’d hit the nail on the head.</p><p>Em rolled his eyes. “I cannot <i>begin</i> to tell you how much I don’t care. I’m satisfied knowing that you know you’re beaten. I’m not even on that subject right now.” </p><p>Oh. Ok, ouch?</p><p>“Beef aside, you make some dumb fucking choices, kid. You don’t seem to know how to take care of yourself at all.”</p><p>Kelly bristled. How was that any of Eminem’s business? </p><p>“I mean seriously, is this how you want to portray yourself? You look ridiculous. Did you even wrap up before touching miss red thong last night?”</p><p>The blond huffed, offended. Of course he had.</p><p>He couldn’t believe Mr. Just Don’t Give a Fuck was lecturing him on safe sex. </p><p>“Careful Slim, you <i>sound</i> jealous.” He took the last bite of his bagel, feeling defiant. “Besides,” he said, talking with his mouth full on purpose to be annoying, “whens the last time you even got laid?” </p><p>Em did not seem to like that. Clicked his tongue. “Careful, kid.”</p><p>He ignored the warning bells going off in his head. Feigning confidence he didn’t feel, the blond leaned back and gave Eminem a cocky smirk. “Must be why you’re so fixated on me huh? Been a while since someone touched that wrinkly sac between your legs so you’re obsessed with how I’m getting my dick wet?”</p><p>“Keep it up, Kelly. See where this goes.”</p><p>Something in the brunette’s tone, or perhaps his gaze, made Kelly feel as though he were kicking a hornet’s nest.</p><p>He plastered a fake smile anyway, wishing he could backtrack the conversation a little but committed at this point. “What you gonna do? Bore me to tears with a lecture about how to respect my elders?”</p><p>The brunette cocked his head to the side at that and dropped his eyes to Kelly’s mouth. Shrugged. “Or something,” he said. “You may want to be more careful what you instigate is all.”</p><p>“Like…”</p><p>Apparently he’d kicked enough, because the look on Em’s face said: Fuck it.</p><p>“<i>Like</i>, lets imagine I gave you permission right now to get down on all fours and come bury your face in my lap. In the very least, you’d think about it. Keep up the tough guy act. But  <i>I think,</i>” his voice carried a hauntingly familiar edge, “you’d drop to those slut knees…” his eyes snapped up to meet Kelly’s. ”…. and crawl. Which do you think is more likely?”</p><p>A shiver went down the blond’s spine and his grin faded as he visualized doing just that.</p><p>Kelly may have just fucked up.</p><p>“Whatever man,” he said, not liking how his voice came out a little tight. “You’re wrong.”</p><p>“Am I?”</p><p>It was as though the temperature in the room had climbed a few degrees and the blond started sweating. He pressed his lips together, trying to remember what he thought was so funny a moment ago. When had the air become so thick and syrupy?</p><p>“Tell ya what, I’d like to find out,” Em said after a moment, assessing their seating arrangement. He pushed the small table to the side so there was nothing but a couple of feet of empty space between them; Stretched his legs out, leaving one arm lying on the table, completely at ease with his hips facing the younger man. “I’ll call your bluff, Kelly. If you want it, come get it.”</p><p>He must be dreaming right now.</p><p>Any second now, Em would laugh, tell him he was just fucking with him. There was no way…</p><p>“I see you thinking about it. Yes, really. You have my permission, slut, come here.”</p><p>Kelly forgot how to breathe and his fist came up to cover his mouth in an unconscious, self-soothing gesture. His dick filled with blood so fast he was dizzy, and his leg jumped restlessly in an active attempt to diffuse the rush of feeling to his groin. Em observed him calmly; the table pushed aside, there was nowhere for the younger man to hide as his cock thickened in his pants. Kelly tried to laugh, but it was strained. “You’re not serious,” he whined, ashamed of how his voice ticked up hopefully at the end.</p><p>“I’ll even pet your hair while you swallow me, sweetheart,” Em promised. Kelly bit his knuckle to stay quiet, his dick pulsing. The brunette watched him with a small smile and he spoke softly. “Let you taste me with that bratty tongue of yours. Replace that finger you’re trying not to suck with what you really want in your mouth. A thick, warm cock would be better, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>Kelly hadn’t noticed that while focusing on Em’s words that he had in fact starting sucking on the knuckle pressed against his mouth. The embarrassment of having that pointed out to him made his eyes momentarily slip shut as he fought back a groan.</p><p>Em brought one hand up and rubbed at his lower lip, watching him with blown pupils. “If you ask nicely, you can even play with the dripping thing between your legs while you moan around mine,” he continued. “Aw, Kelly you just can’t control yourself can you? You really are a sight right now. Look at you practically sucking off your own fingers just to have something in that mouth. Trying to find a comfortable way to sit with your cock trapped in those little slut jeans.”</p><p>Kelly swallowed thickly, ducking his burning face as a small noise escaped his throat. “Em…man come on…,” came out on what was almost a sob. Kelly was beyond denying it at this point, barely holding on to his last scrap of dignity. His erection was leaking freely, probably forming a noticeable wet spot on the inside of his too tight jeans. Each time he shifted to ease the pressure, the sensitive head of his cock slipped through the precum slicking his underwear, eliciting a sharp inhale and more shifting. He was squirming rhythmically in his chair, not even caring how he looked anymore. </p><p>Reality set in; He was wrecked. His tongue worked along the knuckle still pressed to his mouth, but he imagined it were something thicker and softer as he panted through his nose and let Eminem watch what his words were doing to him. He looked pleadingly to the darkened eyes of the man sitting opposite with frustrated tears in his own.</p><p>The brunette dragged his gaze over the younger man from head to toe. Hummed approvingly.</p><p>“On your knees, Colson.”</p><p>The last of his self-control crumbled.</p><p>He didn’t make a conscious decision to slip out of his chair, but he moved as if magnetized, onto his knees and forward, until he was close enough to smell the musky scent of the other man’s groin. Fingers wove their way into his hair and gripped possessively, tilting his head up to meet the sexed out blue eyes looking down at him.</p><p>“Very good,” Eminem praised. Kelly’s dick leapt in his pants. </p><p>The older man’s eyes held his as he used his grip on the blond’s hair to maneuver him back far enough to pop the button on his jeans with his other hand. He lifted his hips and tugged his jeans down far enough to give Kelly access but leaving his boxers, “Here ya go, sweetheart” the brunette said, his voice low. </p><p>The blond whimpered as the grip in his hair softened to a caress, and he finally looked down; Eminem’s dick was mostly hidden, but perfect. Thick. He chose not to think, he just moved, gave in to the heady arousal that urged him to press his mouth against the center crease of Eminem’s boxers where his cock and balls met and inhaled deeply, moaning. A growl rumbled through the brunette’s chest and Kelly sighed as he sank his face in further, wanting to feel the vibration against his mouth.</p><p>“Holy shit,” Em said thickly, his hand applying pressure to the back of Kelly’s head as he rocked his hips forward, forcing the blond to breathe him in. The blond struggled not to cum just from that, overwhelmed by the sensations and how helpless he felt. </p><p>The hand released him and his arms came up under to wrap around the other mans thighs. Body shuddering as he flattened his tongue out against the fabric enclosed cock, he lapped and sucked greedily no longer caring about the desperate sounds escaping him. Between his legs, his cock pulsed and pleasure coiled tightly, but he ignored it; instead focused all his attention on the way Em’s jumped and throbbed under his tongue. </p><p>Hissing, the brunette gripped his hair again and pulled him off, forcing him to meet his eyes. Kelly’s breath caught at the shattered expression on the other man’s face. “Want me to cum before you can put it in your mouth, sweetheart? Pull me out. This isn’t gonna take long.”</p><p>The blond rushed to obey. Fumbling blindly, he removed Em from his spit soaked boxers, not looking away from his face as he did so. The older man smiled at him, still holding his head in place by his hair.</p><p>Kelly looked down and started forward but Em tugged again, teasing him, causing him to whine. “Please, Em,” he slurred.</p><p>“Try that again,” he said. </p><p>Kelly whimpered, not understanding, but then it clicked. “Please, daddy,” he begged, beyond hesitation. The coiling pressure between his legs was unbearable. He was going to cum untouched and he didn’t care.</p><p>The brunette growled.</p><p>“Swallow me, slut.”</p><p>Hair released, he gripped the perfect cock in his hand and wasted no time doing just that. Silky hard flesh filled his mouth and he moaned at the taste, allowing his tongue to caress it while he impaled himself as far as he could. The blunt head hit the back of his throat and he gagged, tears spilling down his cheeks. Em groaned and Kelly gripped his thighs tighter, feeling his air run out, becoming dizzy. He kept suction as he pulled back with a shudder and inhaled shakily around the organ in his mouth before slowly impaling himself again.</p><p>“Fuck, Colson, do that again. I’m gonna cum.” </p><p>Kelly repeated it again, shaking as he finally lost control and spilled into his jeans, hips jerking forward in the empty air between his legs, his throat fluttering around Em’s cock as he moaned brokenly. </p><p>Em tensed up and cursed. Shuddered as Kelly’s orgasm set off his own, nearly doubled over with the force of it.</p><p>The blond pulled off slowly, cleaning Em with his tongue as he came back up, reluctant to let go. Trembling and whimpering with post orgasm euphoria, he let Em grow soft in his mouth before letting him slide out. He rested his forehead against the older man’s thigh and sighed as Em started petting his hair. Neither one of them spoke.</p><p>Kelly felt as though he were sinking into a cloud.</p><p>Eventually, Em shifted, adjusting in his seat, and the younger man in his lap roused from his daze. Em’s hand was still stroking through his hair, but reality was sifting back in. </p><p>“I just sucked off Marshall Mathers…” he mumbled, not aware he was saying it aloud. It dawned on him however as the man himself started rumbling with laughter.</p><p>Em kept petting him. “Yeah you sure did. Guess I won that bet.”</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, I know I'm updating this quickly, but I woke up this morning and I needed some closure on that last scene. And here we are. Little chapter, lots of fluff and dialogue.</p><p>I don't really do plots very well, but I'm kinda feeling one out as I go. I'm not much of an author, so please accept my future attempts at plot for the clumsy things that they are. What I do promise is lots of filthy porn. But not this chapter. This is aftercare, ya'll.</p><p>Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I… will be right back. I need..” Another shower. A drink. A new identity.</p><p>He didn’t want to think about what he must look like so he avoided his idol’s eyes, suddenly shy, and awkwardly extricated himself from the field of gravity that apparently surrounded Eminem’s dick. The haze of arousal and orgasmic bliss had worn off like a crumbling dam, giving way to a fresh wave of shame and self-consciousness.</p><p>“Mmm,” Em hummed, letting his fingers slip from Kelly’s hair. He started tucking himself back into his pants and made a face. “Well these have to come off,” he grumbled. Kelly thought he may die of embarrassment, noticing Em’s soaked boxers. </p><p>He had done that. Drooled and slobbered all over him because he had about as much self-control as a toddler in a candy store. He opened his mouth to apologize but decided against it, then turned on his heel and staggered to the bathroom to clean up.</p><p>“Kelly, wait a sec.”</p><p>He paused and turned in the doorway. The older rapper grimaced as he tugged his spit soaked clothes back up, leaving his jeans unbuttoned, and stood.</p><p>Post orgasm Eminem looked to Kelly a bit like a pleased cat. His eyes were hooded but still sharp as he caught up to the younger man, scanning over him in a scrutinizing manner. “You ok?”</p><p>A lump got caught in Kelly’s throat. “Uh,” he swallowed, “Yeah.” The fact that he was a little taller than Eminem didn’t make him feel any less small in that moment as he was assessed skeptically, clutching the doorframe behind him just to feel grounded. He could still taste the blowjob, and the cum in his pants was beginning to dry, and his eyes prickled hatefully. He blinked, stubbornly shaking it off.</p><p>Blue eyes narrowed. “No,” Em corrected him, “You’re not.” Kelly had to blink rapidly and look away to avoid embarrassing himself further.</p><p>Em chewed his lip, and nodded. “Shower. Come on.”</p><p>Before he could open his mouth to protest, Em gripped his shoulder and steered him into the bathroom and over to the bench against the wall, pushing him down firmly. “Yo… “ Kelly complained weakly, as Em opened the door to the walk-in shower and turned it on.</p><p>“You’re coming down pretty hard. Take your clothes off and get in here. The warm water will help.”</p><p>“Coming down?” Kelly scrunched his face up. “I didn’t take anything.”</p><p>“You don’t need to take something to get high.”</p><p>Huh. “I wasn’t high.”</p><p>Em turned to look at him. “Yes, kid, you were. Are you gonna take your clothes off or do I need to undress you?”</p><p>Unable to muster the energy to argue, he did as the older man said and started unbuttoning his jeans. Something about this side of Em was different than what he was growing to expect; Left the blond rapper off balance and unsure. </p><p>Aggressive, filthy-mouthed Em he could navigate, or so he’d thought until a few minutes ago. This calmly decisive, almost fatherly version was catching him off guard. </p><p>Kelly moved on autopilot and finished removing his clothes, mostly because he didn’t know what else to do with himself, as he watched the  absurdly attractive older man test the water temperature with his hand. </p><p>Marshall Mathers, famously controversial and quick-tempered, was perhaps a bit more complex a man than most people gave him credit for. </p><p>The brunette held the door open for him and jerked his head expectantly. Kelly scratched the back of his head, and covered his front with the t-shirt in his hand, feeling exposed. </p><p>“You’re ok, kid,” Em told him, apparently reading his mind, grabbing his arm lightly and guiding him into the shower, taking the t-shirt from him in the process. He reached in and poured some soap onto a washcloth, placing it in the blond’s hand. For the second time that day, Kelly very seriously considered the possibility that he was actually dreaming. Em then closed the door and started removing his wet boxers. He pulled his jeans back on and sat on the bench.</p><p>Kelly absently started washing himself off. Em mercifully didn’t try to talk to him, but <i>did</i> keep a subtle eye on him, and was just…. there. Kelly gradually relaxed, privately relieved to not be completely alone with his thoughts.</p><p>The warm water, he admitted grudgingly, did wonders in dissipating the shame-induced weepiness he’d been fighting a few minutes ago, and the other man’s quiet presence was oddly reassuring. There was a little corner bench in the shower, and Kelly sat down, feeling drained.</p><p>“Here’s a towel,” Em draped it over the side, “Get dressed and I’ll meet you out there.”</p><p>Kelly stayed in the shower for several minutes more before turning the water off and getting out.</p><p>When he reemerged, teeth brushed and dressed in fresh clothes, he found the older rapper reclining on his bed, flipping through netflix. Apparently he was planning to hang out a while. The blond pursed his lips and decided he sorta didn’t mind.</p><p>Kelly walked over to the bed and took the spot next to him. The newfound intimacy of Eminem being in the room while he showered, not to mention what they had done before that, had Kelly gravitating towards him without thinking. He paused when he realized it, but Em just gave him an approving glance and turned on The Walking Dead. Kelly snorted. “Really?” The sound of walker growls filled the room.</p><p>“What? Got something else you’d rather watch?”</p><p>“The inside of my eyelids. It’s almost like I didn’t get enough sleep or something,” he snarked, giving his idol a side-eye. Em smirked and ruffled his hair. Kelly blushed and batted his hand away.</p><p>“You’re too damn cute, kid,” he said, lowering the volume to background noise.</p><p>“Dude….” Kelly grumbled. “Don’t say that shit, its embarrassing.”</p><p>“I’ll call you whatever I damn well please,” Em informed him pleasantly. “And you may call me ‘daddy’ <i>anytime</i> you like.”</p><p>“Oh my god,” Kelly rubbed at his face with both hands, mortified. “You just had to bring that up.”</p><p>“Had to,” Em agreed. “That was adorable.”</p><p>“I never imagined you’d be such a fucking pervert, damn.”</p><p>“Cut the crap, sweetheart, you like it.” He looked him over. “You feelin’ better now?”</p><p>Kelly’s self-consciousness returned and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, man. I’m good.”</p><p>Em gave him a funny look. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I …may have fucked up,” Em said. “It was fun, but you know we were just playing, right?”</p><p>Kelly tried to puzzle out what he meant. Oh. He deflated, feeling shitty. “Yeah man, I’m not some girl who’s gonna call you all the time now, you’re good.”</p><p>“That is <i>not</i> what I meant,” Em said, sounding surprised. “Yo, kid, look at me a sec?”</p><p>Kelly reluctantly turned to look at him, hoping he didn’t look disappointed. “Hmm?”</p><p>“So, I mean the first time was pretty real, but..” Em began, pushing himself up and turning. “How do I explain this… we were playing a pretty intense little power game back there, yeah?”</p><p>Kelly raised an eyebrow. “Game?”</p><p>“Yeah, I called you filthy names and made you feel a certain way? You came away from that all drained and weepy, yeah? You’re in a drop.”</p><p>Eminem just called him ‘weepy’, so the floor could swallow him and that would be fine. “The fuck is a drop?”</p><p>“Mood crash after coming down from all those sex chemicals and headspace.” </p><p>Oh. Yeah. That made sense.</p><p>“Don’t believe that bullshit I said to get you riled up, kid. That’s the fastest I’ve cum from a blowjob in my life. You’re incredible. I mean, fuck, just watching you….” Em trailed off, “… you really get into it.”</p><p>Kelly couldn’t help but feel a bit of embarrassed arousal at that. He wished his dick would behave for a change.</p><p>“Anyway, if you lose my number after this I may just stalk you.”</p><p>For some reason the blond found that pretty funny. He puffed out a surprised laugh. “Dude, you were totally already stalking me.”</p><p>Em had the decency to look a little sheepish. “Nah.”</p><p>“How the fuck did you even find this place? If you don’t call that stalking, I’d hate to see what you think stalking is. You’re fucking creepy.”</p><p>The brunette growled a little, “And you’re a fucking brat.”</p><p>Kelly decided privately that he probably didn’t mind being stalked by Marshall Mathers. He elbowed him and stole the remote.</p><p>“Shut it, old man, you like it.”</p><p>“You bet your ass I do.”</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is not the turn I expected my story to take, but hey, I'm rolling with it. </p><p>Hope things getting a little serious doesn't make y'all squeamish?</p><p>Sorry sorry sorry.</p><p>I suppose this chapter warrants a drug use warning and also some sensitive topics surrounding such things.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At some point, Colson fell asleep. The combination of his partying the night before and the sheer emotional exhaustion caused by his intense encounter with Eminem dragged him down into sleep while they watched TV on his bed.</p><p>But upon waking, emerging from his pillows bleary-eyed and grumpy the way one does when one takes a nap in the middle of the day, Eminem was gone. Disoriented, he blinked himself slowly into consciousness and remembered where he was first, then who he had been with, and he shot up out of bed in a sudden panic, looking around. When he didn’t spot any sign of the other man, he flopped back down and hit the pillows, his mind racing out of control.</p><p>If he kept this shit up, he was going to start getting gray hairs. Eminem had a knack for stressing him the fuck out, unapologetically, when he wasn’t even there. </p><p>Out of habit, he rolled over and retrieved his phone from the nightstand thinking he would scroll social media to distract himself until he was ready to acknowledge whatever the sour, fluttery feeling was in his guts, but his home screen announced that he had a few messages.</p><p>A few from Rook, asking if he was planning to go out tonight, and where the heck had he been all day, and dude, why aren’t you answering your texts, and ‘I’m worried’. He shot the drummer a quick message apologizing for being MIA, dropping a hint or two about a hangover which would get him off the hook for sleeping half the day away. Satisfied, he closed the conversation and stared at the other number he had texts from.</p><p>It wasn’t that he didn’t want to read them, but rather that he really really did. </p><p>He hadn’t yet saved the number in his phone, so to prolong reading them he did that first, worrying over what name to put there. Choosing ‘M’ which was perfectly subtle and ambiguous, he finally opened the conversation, his heart beating wildly.</p><p>-Hey, kiddo, I had to head out. I was supposed to meet Paul. The guy was threatening to track me down if I didn’t show soon.-</p><p>-Didn’t want you to think I was sneaking out while you were asleep, but I also didn’t want to wake you up. You looked like you needed it.-</p><p>-Text me when you’re awake. I think we have a few things to talk about.-</p><p>Colson read them about 5 more times, as if he could extract more meaning from it than he did from the first or second time. Finally he tossed the phone next to him and started rubbing his face. </p><p>He wanted to reply. He really, really wanted to reply. But what do you say to a man like him when you have the time to think things through? It had been so much easier when he’d been there in person, because in the moment, all he could do was react. But to have time to formulate thoughts and be fully accountable for his words and actions? It almost seemed like too much pressure. </p><p>What were the two of them even doing? It went from some macho power play, to humiliation, to Em treating him like a bitch he was courting really fucking fast, and the weird part was how natural it all felt, like placing a puzzle piece.</p><p>He was curious, burning with it, ever since Em had mentioned there was this unambiguous name for the way he’d felt earlier, that apparently his loss of control wasn’t some unique failing of his, but an accepted part of this game they were playing. Colson hadn’t even been aware that it <i>was</i> a game, not until Marshall told him. This morning had thrown him so much, opening up this whole can of worms he never knew existed.</p><p>It was an itch he wanted to scratch badly, but he needed to consider the potential consequences first. Only idiots dive head first into something they don’t understand.</p><p><i>You mean like how you dove face first into Eminem’s lap?</i> He groaned, allowing his brain to torture him for a few moments, reliving those memories full of dangerous blue eyes and hands in his hair, his cock growing hard even as his anxiety increased. Finally, he decided he needed to distract himself, so he went searching for his weed and laptop, thinking that working a little may help.</p><p>Settling down on the couch with his grinder, pot and a fresh package of blunts, Colson got down to business rolling himself an exceptionally fat one. He powered up his laptop, letting it whir to life as he emptied the cheap tobacco and started piling the sticky sativa he’d ground up into the leaves, tapping and rolling until it was even, then tucking and licking the edge shut. It was a beautiful blunt and he admired it a moment before tucking it between his lips and lighting it. The first inhale of thick smoke made him feel better almost instantly, and he unlocked his computer screen.</p><p>A word document full of lyrics was open and his eyes scanned over them in mild disgust. He considered deleting them, as they weren’t his best work, but he resisted and tapped out a little line beneath them, thinking he’d start over. He stared for a moment, then minimized the doc. He maximized it again, then minimized it, then finally shut his laptop again and took another long hit from his blunt, leaning back into the couch.</p><p>Working wasn’t going to happen. </p><p>He glanced at his phone, innocently sitting on the coffee table covered in little specks of loose pot, and he chewed on the inside of his lip.</p><p>He opened his laptop again and unlocked it, then opened up iTunes, typing Eminem into the search bar. It almost felt like he was doing something he shouldn’t, but when something is on your mind, indulging it a little will sometimes satisfy it. Or at least thats the justification his mind provided for why he wanted to hear Eminem’s voice.</p><p>Eyes roaming quickly through the discography, which he had in it’s entirety, he ended up just hitting shuffle. ‘Role Model’ came on, and Colson huffed in amusement at the irony, closed his eyes and smoked as the voice of a much younger Marshall Mathers filled the room with his unique sound and outrageousness. For some reason, Colson found that it actually calmed him down, scratched the surface of that formless itch causing him so much anxiety, and he mouthed along to the familiar lyrics between hits.</p><p>The song ended, and Colson’s thoughts started whirring unpleasantly, so he cycled through a few more songs off the SSLP before turning to some of Eminem’s more recent music. He listened to a few songs off of each of the albums, and then finally Not Alike and Killshot, which he didn’t want to admit he’d been building towards the whole time. His face heating up despite being alone, he listened as the more mature Eminem addressed him directly, embarrassed at his reaction to the sound of his professional rap name in the older man’s mouth. It didn’t quite compare to how that same, but sex-roughened voice, had sounded around his real name, but it was still enough to have the blond rapper trailing a hand down to cup himself through his jeans. </p><p>He wondered if Em were here right now, would he speak to him in that same condescending tone? Which side of that multifaceted personality would he be, watching with that hooded blue gaze as Colson gripped his cock because of him? The blond rapper bit his lip and denied himself, letting his cock throb against his hand.</p><p>He was so fucked, it wasn’t even funny.</p><p>Sitting up, red-faced and hard as a rock, he reached for his phone. He felt like such a chick, all emotional and insecure and what had Em called it?</p><p>He pulled up a browser and googled ‘drop,’ but nothing that could possibly be related to the ‘drop’ he was referring to came up.</p><p>Frustrated, Colson took a final hit from his blunt and opened up the text conversation with Marshall again. He started typing a message and then instantly deleted it, groaning in disgust at his own indecisiveness. </p><p>Swallowing his pride and deciding to risk it a little, he typed out a new message and hit send with his heart in his throat and tossed it back on the coffee table.</p><p>-I’m up. What was that thing called, drop or whatever?-</p><p>He regretted it as soon as he sent it. Why the fuck would he come right out the gate with something like that? So fucking stup—</p><p>The phone pinged and he stared at it like it was a snake; sat with his leg jiggling for a solid 20 seconds, hands covering the lower half of his face, before reaching for it again.</p><p>-Must have been one long ass nap.-  </p><p>Colson’s face felt hot and he rolled his eyes. There were ellipses; Em was typing again. Finally a pinging noise preceded a new text bubble, and the blond read it quickly.</p><p>-If you’re trying to look it up, ‘sub drop.’-</p><p>Sub, as in…Colson’s eyes widened and he opened his browser back up, typing in ‘sub drop’. He stared at the top result, which included the words ‘submissive’ and ‘BDSM’ and he tossed his phone on the couch.</p><p>Holy crap. Did Eminem mean to say…</p><p>He grabbed it again and opened the link, read through the few paragraphs that almost perfectly described the volatile mood swings he’d been fighting. </p><p>Giving himself a solid minute to freak out, he tried to formulate another text. Not knowing how to address the new information, he decided to turn the conversation over to Eminem. He could steer this boat, damnit. It was his fault either of them were on it in the first place.</p><p>-What was it you wanted to talk about?-</p><p>While he waited, he started clicking links to more information. Em responded a few minutes later.</p><p>-Now that I think about it, it may be a conversation better had in person. Maybe I can meet you before your concert tomorrow. That cool?-</p><p>Trust the guy to leave him in suspense, and to ask for his opinion <i>now</i> and not the last two times. </p><p>Colson wasn’t so sure having any kind of interaction with Eminem before a show would be a good idea. Based on how he still hadn’t recovered from their last face-to-face meeting, it may throw off his ability to perform at all. </p><p>-How about after?-</p><p>-I can do that. Did you find the information you wanted on sub drop?-</p><p>He swallowed thickly.</p><p>-I found it- he responded, keeping it short.</p><p>-Read up on some of the other stuff too if you’re interested.-</p><p>Colson could hardly breathe, he was so embarrassed. He decided to just not respond to that.</p><p>“Ohhhh my god, what is my life right now?” the blond groaned, laying back on the couch and getting down to some reading.</p><p>——-</p><p>Rook came to track him down eventually, banging on his door and hollering from outside, sending him into a panic. Colson quickly exited out of his browser, closed the laptop and tripped over himself trying to stand up. </p><p>He opened the door, sure he looked a little wild around the eyes. </p><p>The shorter man looked him up and down. “Dude, some hangover, you look like absolute garbage.”</p><p>“Gee thanks, my guy. You coming in or what?” He stepped aside, wishing people would stop telling him how shitty he looked today. </p><p>The drummer grinned and walked in, going immediately for the couch and the blond’s weed. “What you been doing this whole time dude? You had that girl here all morning?”</p><p>If only that was the most incriminating thing he’d done that morning, he thought miserably. The interesting part was how he wasn’t even freaked about it anymore, just sort of curious. The ‘research’ had left him with more questions than when he’d started, and he had only barely refrained from blowing up the older man’s phone demanding answers.</p><p>“Just been working, writing and whatnot. Smoke?”</p><p>“Is that even a question? Yes,” the brunette agreed, plopping himself down and looking at the available weed. “We gonna hit the town again tonight?”</p><p>Colson didn’t see why they shouldn’t. “Sure, that was always the plan.” In his mind’s eye, he imagined an annoyed Eminem shaking his head disapprovingly, and he laughed a little remembering how he’d lectured him that morning.</p><p>Judging by Em’s behavior over that tweet, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to think going out again tonight would also elicit some sort of reaction from the older man. Not that it was any of Em’s business what he did, but somehow the idea of deliberately poking the bear here seemed like the thing to do. Maybe it would make Colson feel in control of himself again to ignore the bearded rapper’s concerns and do whatever he wanted? One way to find out. </p><p>If he were being honest, he knew that going out and getting shit faced the night before a show never led to him feeling one-hundred percent during his performances, but that rock-star lifestyle almost demanded that he burn the candle at both ends. It kept him creative and fun, unlike certain stick-in-the-mud old people he knew.</p><p>Rook raised an eyebrow at him, beginning to roll a fresh blunt with Colson’s remaining supplies, probably wondering what was funny.</p><p>“I uh, just remembered something that happened, doesn’t matter. Where are we going tonight?”</p><p>——-</p><p>When Colson stumbled back into his hotel room at 3 am, the last thing on his mind was Marshall fucking Mathers. The blond dreamily collapsed in the chair on the balcony and enjoyed the artificial happiness coursing through his veins.</p><p>He and his band had hit a few clubs, heading out in a group as the sun went down. At some point, he and Rook had found themselves separated from the others, and they landed in Rook’s hotel room with a small group of girls, and shit had gotten weird. The rest of the band had shown up a little while later and joined in.</p><p>There had been drugs involved, he wasn’t exactly sure which ones, but over all he felt pretty damn amazing. He’d almost brought one of the girls back with him, but maybe he was getting old or something, because he really was just in the mood to sleep. Making excuses about needing to get up early, he’d slipped out and headed down the hall. </p><p>He sat and admired the city view for a while, sucking in lungfuls of air and guzzling from a hastily acquired bottle of water in equal parts, wondering what it may be like to sleep on the balcony for a change.</p><p>Registering a vibration and a pinging noise, Colson frowned and squinted, looking around for the source of the sound. After what felt like an eternity, he realized the sound was his text notifications.</p><p>He had text messages from ‘M.’ In his drug addled state, he had no direct memory of this number, so he decided to just call it back without checking the message. Focusing on the tiny, bright little screen was incredibly hard. It picked up on maybe the 3rd ring.</p><p>“Whoa, hey, did I wake you?”</p><p>“EM?” Colson asked incredulously in a much too loud voice.</p><p>There was a moment of silence. “Uh, yeah… you didn’t check the number before calling?”</p><p>The younger rapper grinned and slumped further into the chair. He was glad it was Em, and without all of his inhibitions in place, he allowed himself to enjoy the moment without anxiety. “Hah. Well yeah but I forgot it was you. Is it late? Oh, shit yeah it’s late. Why the heck are you up?”</p><p>A huff on the other end, followed by a ‘hold on’ and then a little moment of rustling about. “I was writing. What were <i>you</i> doing this whole time? I think I texted you around 10, thought you were asleep already.”</p><p>“Why would I be in bed at 10?” he giggled and took a chug from his water bottle.</p><p>“Going out two nights in a row? Seriously?” the older man said. “Colson, are you on something right now?”</p><p>Colson snorted, “Ohhh yes. I am very very high. Did you say you texted me?” He pulled the phone away from his ear and squinted at it, trying to find his messages. After a minute he succeeded, but he couldn’t make much sense of them. He put the phone back to his ear and caught the end of something Em said. “What?”</p><p>“I said are you back in your hotel room?”</p><p>“Yup! Was gonna sleep in this chair before you called me.”</p><p>“You called me, actually. What chair?”</p><p>“Yeah this chair outside.”</p><p>“I thought you said you were inside?” There was something about Em’s voice just now. Colson rolled his eyes. </p><p>“Em you sound grumpy, maybe you should go to bed, old timer.”</p><p>“I’m thinking I need to come back over there and make sure <i>you</i> get to bed,” Em said, an edge to his voice. It made Colson’s chest feel all fluttery.</p><p>“M’ already in bed though.”</p><p>“No, see, you just told me you’re outside in a chair. What the hell did you take?”</p><p>Colson ignored that last question. “I’m on the balcony, in this very comfortable chair. Don’t worry your grumpy head over it.”</p><p>“Don’t sleep on the balcony! Go inside, it’s fucking cold out… damnit. If you don’t get your ass inside right now, I’m driving over there.” Colson frowned. The older man sounded pretty mad.</p><p>“Ok, damn, buzzkill, I’ll go inside.” </p><p>“Thank you.” That seemed to calm Em down, and he snickered, still in the chair and not moving. He was very comfortable.</p><p>There was silence for a moment. “Colson?” Em’s tone was back. </p><p>“Hmm?”<br/>
“Take a picture so I know you did what I said.”</p><p>His eyes widened, easily impressed at the moment. “How did you know?”</p><p>“Hunch. Go inside, now.” The order made him bristle a little, even while drugged up. </p><p>“What? No! You can’t tell me what to do,” he laughed. </p><p>Eminem sighed heavily on the other end. “Not from where I am, maybe, but I wasn’t kidding about going over there.”</p><p>“Don’t old people have trouble seeing in the dark? You’ll die. Make better choices, Em.” He grinned, thinking he was being awfully clever.</p><p>“Could you quit being so difficult? Trust me when I say it is way too cold to sleep outside. Are you always this fucking stupid?”</p><p>“Are you always this annoying and bossy?” He stumbled to his feet, finally just over the topic and wanting to talk about something else. Em was about to say something else but Colson cut him off. “Alright I’m going, happy?”</p><p>“Yes, damn you’re stubborn.”</p><p>Colson rolled his eyes and went into the room, shutting the door behind him. Now that he was back inside, the contrast in temperature was obvious and he shivered, heading for the bed. “Yo it was cold huh…” he mumbled, earning himself a relieved snort from the other end of the line. </p><p>“Thank you,” Em said, sounding way less pissy.</p><p>“Don’t know why it mattered to you so much.”</p><p>“You almost give yourself hypothermia and you don’t know why… never mind. Are you in bed?”</p><p>“Give me a damn minute, sheesh.” He kicked off his shoes and set the phone down long enough to clumsily extract himself from his pants and crawl under the covers. “This is much better, you were right…” he said, then realized he left the phone on top of the covers and groaned. He sat up and snatched it, diving back under the covers. “Ok, yeah,” he mumbled. “Hey Em?”</p><p>“What’s up?”</p><p>“You were right, this is way better.”</p><p>Em sighed again. “Of course it is. Thank you for listening,” he said, and Colson felt a little warm at the sound of praise. He frowned, not sober enough to analyze it.</p><p>“What the hell were you thinking anyway… You have to perform tomorrow, don’t be an idiot.”</p><p>Colson felt a little defensive. “You used to do all kinds of drugs and perform, don’t be a hypocrite, Em.”</p><p>The older man sighed on the other end. “I did, yeah. But if you know that much, you probably also know how the rest of that story went.” He didn’t sound angry, and Colson frowned, realizing that yes, he did know that story. Guilt hit him like a punch in the gut.</p><p>The combination of the warmth of his bed and Em’s tone was making him feel strange and his whole mood shifted, amplified by the drugs coursing through his system. “Em?” he asked, his voice rough in his own ears.</p><p>“Yeah sweetheart?”</p><p>That was the first time Em had called him that in a non-humiliating context and for some reason he felt his eyes prickling. He inhaled shakily, whatever he was about to say, forgotten. “Nothing. I’m gonna go to sleep.”</p><p>“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that. Are you ok?”</p><p>“Uh huh. Yeah I’m gonna go.” He hung up quickly, not sure why there were tears running down his cheeks. He wiped at them angrily and rolled over to press his face into the pillow, the tears soaking into the fabric under his cheek giving him a feeling like he was melting. A little sob escaped him, and he grit his teeth as the tears started flowing out of control. </p><p>It was morning before the chemicals ran their course and he finally dropped off into sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah ok ok ok I get it, don't be mad at me. The next chapter will be much much happier.</p><p>Let me know if you hate it, I guess.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry! This took longer than expected. Had finals and some personal stuff popped up, or I would have posted sooner. So anyway, be prepared for an angsty little chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Late in the morning, Colson woke to the sound of someone pounding on his door, and his phone ringing in his ear from the pillow next to him. While it was an unpleasant way to be woken up, it was also a strange stroke of luck that kept him from lying in bed and eating at himself for the events of the night before. He didn’t have time to dwell on it for very long, or he may have not gotten out of bed at all. </p><p>Rook had come to track him down, because today was the last show before returning home, and there were things to do. Swept up in a flurry of fan-centric activities and pre-show preparation, Colson made it through the majority of his day without even fully stopping to take a breath. </p><p>He was hungover, and that certainly made the day less than ideal, but he put his game face on from the get-go, and he was Machine Gun Kelly from the moment he stepped out of his hotel room. Left hand fingernails freshly painted and hair artfully messy, Colson had at least the appearance of a rockstar as he miserably went through the motions of meeting with small time reporters and fans in the hours leading up to that evening’s event. </p><p>Unpleasantly, his manager had set him up for a few quick interviews, and he found himself plastering on a fake smile for each one that sometimes fell flat despite his best efforts. Eminem was mentioned several times, because of course he fucking was, and Colson thought he handled it as well as expected. That is, if you could call a few cocky smirks and pretending he wasn’t bothered while deliberately changing the subject, handling it. In light of the week he’d had, though, it was the best he could manage without having a full-fledged breakdown. </p><p>He didn’t want to talk about Eminem to these people, and while that was no different on a normal day, it was especially true today. Colson felt like his entire perception of the man had flipped on it’s head, and he didn’t know how to reconcile the person he’d dissed with the man he’d been on the phone with last night. Each mention of the stage name of Marshall Mathers had Colson one step away from calling the guy up in a blubbering mess and apologizing for ever having dissed him in the first place. </p><p>Needless to say, he wasn’t in the mood to smack talk the guy or discuss his ‘side of things’ with these second-rate vultures. He hadn’t even had a chance to stop and text Eminem today; to thank him for telling his dumb, high ass self to get off the balcony and not freeze to death, or to find out what time they were meeting later… assuming that was still even happening… or anything.</p><p>It was as he sat for his last interview with an especially annoying redheaded woman, that he finally was just fucking over it. The music journalist, if you could call her one, had been especially persistent about bringing up Eminem and their beef, and after the amount of careful evasions he’d had to do so far today, he was beginning to feel a bit like a dancing monkey to these people. His stomach was sour, he hadn’t had a chance to jerk off today, and he was fucking tired because he’d spent most of the night high and crying. She continued pressing for gritty details about why Colson had said this or that or the other thing, and his polite swerves away from the subject were ignored completely. It was probably after the 5th Eminem related question that he’d finally snapped.</p><p>“You know,” he’d said, giving her a truly fake smile, “if you’re interested in talking about Eminem, ain’t this his city? Go get an interview with him.”</p><p>They both knew she couldn’t snag that high profile of an interview if she tried, and it was admittedly a dick move. It <i>did</i> feel good to see her own equally fake smile fall right off her face for a moment, though.</p><p>The redhead, of course, had been passive aggressive about it, giggling like a hyena while she pretended they were both just joking around, but he caught the nasty look she shot him when the cameras were no longer there; he’d been sure to wink at her with the same energy when he thought no one was looking.</p><p>His manager wasn’t too happy with him, having caught the exchange, and she pulled him aside before they made their way to the venue, tugging on his arm to speak to him as the crew climbed into the tour bus.</p><p>“You know, this is how people like you start getting bad media attention. Don’t be an asshole, if you can help it,” she told him, looking stressed. “The beef is what people want to hear about, she’s just doing her job.”</p><p>Colson gave her a look. “Honestly, she can suck me. That interview was one-hundred percent about Eminem, and she wasn’t even pretending it wasn’t. She wants his name next to mine for clickbait.”</p><p>Ash reluctantly agreed, but warned him to be more careful how he portrayed himself. As Colson boarded the bus, he thought bitterly that maybe being likable was beginning to be more of a pain in the ass than it was worth.</p><p>Their short bus ride was probably the first chance he’d had to breathe all day, and he tugged his phone out of his pocket with no real plan in mind, but he knew he needed to face Eminem eventually. He hadn’t checked his phone since he’d woken up this morning, and there were two new texts from his idol. They made him feel excited and anxious at the same time, and opened them, kicking his feet up on the chair in front of him. </p><p>M: -Hey, what time should I pick you up later?-<br/>
M: -Wanna come over to my place tonight?-</p><p>Well that answered one question: they were still meeting up today. Exhaling sharply through his nose, Colson tried to calm the torrent of emotions he was experiencing. Relief? Maybe? A little bit of shame probably, but mostly relief. He typed out a reply and hit send, then got up again, looking around the bus for something he could use for a performance enhancer today.</p><p>-Around 9. It’s an early set. Why your house?-</p><p>It took around fifteen minutes before he got a response, and during that time, they had pulled up to the venue and Colson had located a bottle of Jameson and done a few lines to replace the neurotransmitters he wasn’t producing. It made him feel a lot better. Out the window, roadies were unloading equipment. Colson watched them and took a swig from the bottle, unlocking his phone again.</p><p>M: -If we’re gonna talk, we may as well be comfortable. We can grab some food on the way, watch some movies or something-</p><p>Trying to imagine what hanging out alone with Em for an evening would be like, Colson let his imagination run away with him a little. He was still a little caught up in his embarrassment from the night before, and anxiety churned in his gut. He typed back, feeling insecure.</p><p>-Just gonna be us?-</p><p>He watched the ellipses appear, taking another swig from his bottle and jiggling his leg nervously. </p><p>M: -I kinda want you all to myself, so yeah. Wanna cuddle your shy ass on my couch. That cool?-  </p><p>In most aspects of his life, Colson considered himself to be a confident guy, and yet the uncertainty he felt in that moment was staggering. It was like Em saw straight through him and his attempts at self-preservation, deciding that dancing around a thing wasn’t worth the effort when he already knew the outcome. It made Colson feel off-balance, and kicked his pulse into overdrive. </p><p>-I don’t really know how to answer that- he wrote, hesitating a little. </p><p>While pride was a factor in his resistance, the idea of being pressed up against that lean boxer’s build on the couch, enveloped in Eminem’s scent, was causing him to chub to half-mast just sitting there.</p><p>M: -It’s a yes or no question, I think you can handle it. Not gonna hurt my feelings either way-</p><p>He bit his lip, his leg still bouncing, realizing he had to make a decision here.</p><p>-Sure, yeah- he finally replied, hitting send with his heart in his throat.</p><p>M: -See? Wasn’t so bad-</p><p>Easy enough for him to say, Colson thought miserably, his cock thick and sensitive between his legs. His band had mostly filtered out of the bus now, lugging various things, but Rook chose that moment to peek back in. “Yo Kells you coming?” the shorter man asked, his eyes bright like a puppy. He looked ready, bouncing a little, excited to perform and probably high out of his gourd on shrooms. </p><p>Colson wished he’d eaten some too, but he’d chosen to take a day off from anything with hallucinogenic properties. After checking off ‘sobbing on the phone to lifelong idol’ from his quarter-life crisis bingo card, he wasn’t in a hurry to repeat that embarrassment.</p><p>“Yeah, man, I’m on my way,” he said, taking another swig.</p><p>Rook pointed to the bottle. “Bring that,” he said, then hopped off the bus.</p><p>“Yup,” Colson mumbled, looking back at his phone. </p><p>-Heading inside, I’ll see you after-</p><p>Standing and gathering the bottle and a coat to wear later, Colson read the reply as he got off the bus to head in.</p><p>M: -Do your thing. Meet me out back when you’re done ok?-</p><p>Colson responded with a simple 'ok,' wondering why he still felt so incredibly awkward.</p><p>————</p><p>The performance went…ok, or as well as expected, when he really just wanted to skip to the end so he could go spend the evening with Eminem. It was wild how much he was looking forward to that.</p><p>With the experience gained from numerous performances, Colson put on MGK like a mask and threw himself into the first song of his set, determined to give his fan’s the night they paid for despite the rough start to his day and the preoccupation of his thoughts. He walked out under the multi-colored lights, blood warmed by the whiskey he’d been drinking, overstimulated from coke, awkward and self-conscious. A few songs in, however, he was feeling himself again.</p><p>He flirted with female fans in the front row, shooting some of them bedroom eyes out of habit and soaking in the squeals. They ate him up like he was a five course meal, and he had to admit the confidence boost didn’t suck.</p><p>Not having jerked off was really coming back to bite him in the ass too, since the stimulants in his system only made him more aware of how horny he’d been all day. He tugged his shirt off on a whim and tossed it offstage between songs, to the approving roar of the audience; felt sweat roll down his torso, tickling him as it traveled over his hips into his waistband. It was something he did often at shows, but tonight he felt especially aware of himself and all the eyes on him, his skin flushed, his cock sensitive and difficult to ignore as he paced the stage. </p><p>At one point, he got close to the edge of the stage and crouched down, slipping his eyes shut as he rapped into the microphone, moving to the beat, allowing hands to just barely touch and caress his arms and stomach and grab at his jeans. He gently redirected the ones that got too close to his goods though, protectively grabbing the crotch of his pants and keeping just out of reach. The feeling of hands on him with his eyes shut was almost too intense, sending electric currents under his skin.</p><p>He didn’t care that he didn’t know these people…just giving the fans just a little something, he told himself. Their screams were deafening, because to his fans, he had value. He felt good about himself for all of thirty seconds.</p><p>It wore of fast, however, and he stood back up and backed away, suddenly not wanting thirsty fans touching him anymore. His thoughts drifted to tattooed arms and sharp blue eyes, and he finished the rest of his set in a distracted daze, wondering why he preferred the attention of a man who made him question who he was, rather than that of fans who made him feel like a king.</p><p>By the time he walked off stage later, he was breathing heavy from exertion and intense frustration, glad it was over with and that he’d managed to pull it off. He followed his band back to the tour bus, laughing and joking on the surface and trying to ignore the nervous energy building in his gut. In a last ditch effort to feel normal, he did another couple lines of coke. </p><p>His somewhat unpredictable idol was probably there already so he made his excuses to his shroomy band members, swapped out his sweaty shirt covered in stage dust for a clean one and tucked his duffel away before hopping back off the bus. Teeth grinding from the cold and hands deep in his pockets, he wandered aimlessly in search of whatever car Em might be driving.</p><p>He hadn’t thought to ask the older man, either, he realized, and decided to just call him. He tugged his phone out of his pocket and dialed his number. It picked up on the third ring.</p><p>“Hey, kid, you done?” Em answered.</p><p>“Yeah, where are you?” he asked, still meandering. Just as he said that, he spotted a red Ferrari. “Are you in the Ferrari?”</p><p>“You see me?” The driver-side window rolled down and Em poked an arm out and waved. His windows were lightly tinted, but Colson would recognize that arm anywhere, his tattooed wrist peeking out of the sleeve of his hoodie.</p><p>“Yeah.” Stomach fluttering, he hung up and strolled over, pushing his hands into his coat pockets as he rounded to the passenger side and got in. </p><p>The older man was dressed casually in nike joggers and a plain black hoodie, a pair of white Jordans probably the most expensive thing on him. Colson subtly roved his eyes over him, still pretty worked up and horny, but cold too. He shivered and gave Em a somewhat shy smile that was part grimace, but then realized the seat was heated. His eyes rolled and he groaned. “Oh thank fuck you have heated seats.”</p><p>Em huffed and rolled his window back up. “Yeah, that’s how I know I really made it,” he said dryly. “Show go ok?”</p><p>Colson nodded. “Not too bad,” he shivered and bounced his leg a little as his eyes strayed over to watch as Em put his car in gear, his forearms peeking out of the pushed up sleeves. “I thought you had to have security everywhere you went,” he said, trying to find a thread of conversation to latch onto so he wouldn't just end up staring at Eminem.</p><p>The older man made a face. “Yeah, I mean not everywhere… but ditching security makes my movements a little limited. Hope you don't mind takeout?”</p><p>The blond shrugged, not caring one bit. “Yeah sure, I could go for a burger.” Em gave him a little smile and a side-eye as he pulled away from the curb. Colson thought he looked relieved. It occurred to him how miserable it must be to be so famous that your ability to go places freely was restricted to whether or not you had a team of hired muscle following you around. Probably made it difficult to date. Not that <i>this</i> was a date, or anything.</p><p>It was mostly quiet as Em navigated out of the venue parking lot, and Colson tried to work up the courage to say something to him about last night, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. </p><p>The older man glanced at him as they pulled out on the main road and made a little amused noise. “What is..” he reached over to grip Colson’s leg just above his knee. “What’s this all about?” he asked, squeezing lightly. Colson leg stilled under the pressure of Em’s grip, and his gaze followed up Em’s arm to his face. He was watching him curiously out of the corner of his eye, and his hand slid a little, making Colson jump.</p><p>“Em…” he complained.</p><p>Eminem left his hand there for a moment, side-eying him and smirking before putting it back on the steering wheel. “Getting shy on me?”</p><p>Colson inhaled, finally able to breathe again, and shook his head self-mockingly. “I’m not being shy.”</p><p>Em chuckled. “If you say so. Should I keep my big scary hands to myself?”</p><p>He opened his mouth to say… something, but it got stuck in his throat. He <i>did</i> want Em to touch him, but his brain was chock full of fake dopamine, and he was too anxious. Em turned and met his gaze for a moment, then looked back at the road. “I’m waiting to hear a ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ or a ‘don’t fucking touch me’ from that side of the car.”</p><p>Colson folded his arms over his chest and looked out the window, his skin flushed to the roots of his hair. He was so overstimulated, it almost made him want to scream. The fact that he’d been looking forward to Em touching him all day, only to ruin it with drugs, made him want to scream even more. “I’m just too high right now,” he said finally.</p><p>It was quiet for a minute, and Em just stared straight ahead into traffic. “Right,” he said, sounding disappointed. “What did you take?”</p><p>The blond bit his lip hard, angry with himself. “Coke.” <i>Too much, apparently</i>, he thought.</p><p>Em nodded, and they drove in silence for a few more minutes before pulling into a drive-thru of a dilapidated little shack that appeared to sell burgers. “Tell me what you want,” he said, tugging a hat onto his head and pulling his hood on over it. Probably trying to avoid being recognized too easily.</p><p>Confused at why Em wasn’t reacting more, the younger man’s eyes darted all over his idol’s poker face. “I uh, I’m not really hungry at the moment.” Em’s face remained impassive as he turned to roll the window down. Colson’s leg started bouncing again, and a moment later Em’s hand drifted back over, sliding around to the inner thigh and gripping firmly.</p><p>It felt oddly grounding this time. Colson exhaled and leaned back while Em placed an order, ignoring the younger man’s claim that he wasn’t hungry and getting enough for both of them, then pulled up to the next window to pay. He removed his hand long enough to do so, then put it back as they were rolling away, right after tucking their fragrant bag of takeout into the back seat. </p><p>“Not quite what I expected we’d be talking about tonight, but fuck it.” Em said, pulling out of the parking lot. “Is everything ok with you?”</p><p>Colson stared at the hand resting on his thigh. He was not ok, his pulse was ricocheting through him and he needed to calm the fuck down. “Yeah, I mean, more or less.”</p><p>“You're trembling,” Em said, calling his bullshit in a calm tone. “You wanted to be high to meet with me, huh.”</p><p>The younger man hesitated a moment, “Well when you put it like that…” he trailed off, then looked up to see Em’s jaw jump with tension. “Fuck,” he sighed and looked out the window and fell silent. </p><p>The hand on his thigh squeezed lightly, and Colson took a slow, shaky breath.</p><p>“What <i>did</i> you want to talk about tonight, anyway?” Colson asked, wondering why Em still wanted to touch him. He wasn’t about to complain though. The small center of warmth and pressure kept him right there in the present. </p><p>Em huffed humorlessly. “I wanted to spend some time with you, and apologize for when I crashed your show earlier this week.”</p><p>“Oh,” Colson said. That didn't sound too bad. “Why?”</p><p>“Why do I want to apologize, or why do I want to spend time with you?” Em asked.</p><p>The blond rubbed his face with one hand. “Which ever one you feel like answering? I don’t know,” he said, discontented. “Or better, do you <i>still</i> want to spend time with me? Could have sworn after last night…”</p><p>“After what, a phone call?” Em frowned.</p><p>Gesturing vaguely and then crossing his arms, he searched for the right words. “All the stupid shit I do,” he said lamely, “Why are you even here? Had to talk my stupid ass out of becoming a popsicle…” he trailed off. “Thanks for that, and sorry, by the way, I meant to say that…. earlier… but I mean it’s obvious, right? That I don’t have it all together? And you’re still inviting me to you house for some reason and I am just so out of my element right now…”</p><p>he was rambling, he realized, and snapped his mouth shut.</p><p>The brunette sighed. “I’m glad you called me last night,” he said, pulling up to a red light and taking the opportunity to turn towards the younger man. “Look, no, I’m not thrilled for you, that you party a lot, but we also barely know each other. I would <i>like</i> to know you better though,” he paused, looking down at where his hand was still resting on Colson’s thigh, then continued.</p><p>“I like you, kid. You’re talented, and beef is good for the culture. But I want to start over. So I mean, I need to apologize. I hated you for all of the time it took to get it out of my system, but I mean, you didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have done and even when I think I'm being fair I sometimes overreact. I was a dick to you that night, and you don’t know me well enough to know when I’m just being petty to get a reaction.”</p><p>The light turned green and Em spotted it, looking a little annoyed at the interruption. He turned away from the slightly shook blond and put his foot on the gas again.</p><p>After a moment, he started talking again, his tone less aggressive. “And I mean, it’s hard to be dismissive of you just cus you think you need to be high to act normal. I’ve been there, and it sucks, but it doesn’t mean you’re not worth anyone’s time either.”</p><p>Colson took all of this in, rendered speechless for a moment. Em side-eyed him but focused for the most part on the road, as the younger of the two stared out the window, his heart beating too fast from a mixture of emotions and chemicals. The last thing he’d said had stung with it’s accuracy. He didn’t even really like how the drugs felt half the time; he just thought he needed them; to be an artist, to be worth people's time, attention and admiration.</p><p>Finally after several long minutes, he turned to look back at Eminem, who was driving quietly up to a gated community and fiddling with his key fob. Em set the fob down and glanced sideways, noticing the blond staring at him.</p><p>“It’s kinda fucked up, huh?” Colson asked, his voice a little rough. “Doing drugs before I come hang out with you? I mean you're sober.”</p><p>A number of emotions flickered over Eminem’s face, his expressive eyes belying his usual passivity. “I can’t tell you how to feel about that.”</p><p>Colson frowned, biting his lip, and looked down at his hands. That didn’t answer his question exactly, but he supposed that was the point.</p><p>“Do we still get to start over?”</p><p>The older man’s features softened fractionally. “Yeah.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments are much appreciated. I love getting feedback or ideas, if ya'll feel like giving them. Thank you to everyone who takes the time.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You guys are the best. Thanks so much for all the love this fic is getting, it's been my little brainchild during this shit show that has been the past few months in the US, and I'm so glad so many people are enjoying it. Maybe it's a little escape for some of ya'll as well. </p>
<p>I would give ya'll a warning, but I promise everything depicted in this chapter is completely healthy. That said, enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Both men allowed silence to lapse over the conversation as they rolled down the main road within Marshall’s neighborhood, the trees and interspersed properties passing outside the window as they made their way towards his house. Colson was clearly deep in thought, and the older rapper knew better than to interrupt a baby addict deep in the throes of introspection, so he left him to deal with his own demons while he focused on the road. </p>
<p>Glancing out the corner of his eye once again, prompted by the younger man’s sighs, Marshall took a quick inventory of his body language and decided the worst of the high had passed. Sure, the kid still seemed anxious, but at least he was breathing normally now. It had been touch and go there for a little bit, trying to decide if he ought to take the blond to the emergency room. </p>
<p>Aside from the two reasons he’d given the blond a few minutes ago, he hadn’t really had much of a plan in mind when he invited Colson over, and he certainly hadn’t expected the kid to be all coked up. Regardless of his intentions or lack thereof, Marshall buckled in for what was likely to be something of a bumpy evening. He imagined the kid’s mood was going to be a mess, but a comedown wasn’t anything Marshall couldn’t handle. He just hoped it was mild.</p>
<p>Colson’s jittery leg was still a little shaky under his hand, which he couldn’t seem to keep to himself for some reason, and he gave it a little squeeze. “Doing ok over there?” he asked after a few minutes, just as they were rolling up to the private gate at the front of his property. He pulled to a stop and turned, finding Colson with a slightly bemused look on his face as though pulled from deep thought. </p>
<p>“I’m ok, assuming you can’t die from showing your ass several times over the course of 24 hours,” the younger man snarked, giving him a cheeky grin that didn’t reach his eyes at all. Poor kid was probably coming down already.</p>
<p>“Promise you can’t,” Em reassured, rolling down his window as the security team on duty came out to make sure it was him before buzzing them through. It didn’t take long, but it did seem to impress the blond in his passenger seat.</p>
<p>“That shit is bonkers and would drive me nuts,” he declared, his arms folded over his chest. “I feel like we just rolled up to a resort and like, just got our admission bracelets. How do you stand that?”</p>
<p>Marshall shrugged. “It is what it is. Wouldn’t have them if they weren’t necessary.”</p>
<p>Caught up in his imagination, the blond’s eyes widened. “So like… do you have burglars… or like, real life Stans and Matthews coming around trying to break in?” he asked, giving Marshall a conspiratorial look.</p>
<p>Glad the kid had moved on from being downright nervous, he smiled slightly. “A little bit of just about everything, over the years,” he told him.</p>
<p>Colson’s eyes widened further. “No way. Stans?”</p>
<p>“Stans,” he confirmed. “And one or two Matthews.”</p>
<p>Shook, the blond watched the road as they rolled up to the house and around to the driveway. They pulled inside and parked, and Colson gaped at his cars as they went. Marshall killed the engine and sat for a moment watching Colson stare, before reaching over to flick him in the ear.</p>
<p>The blond startled and grabbed his ear, and Marshall tried not to laugh. “Get out of my car,” he told him. Without waiting for an answer he snagged the takeout from the back seat and slid out. The blond followed a second later.</p>
<p>“Yo you could have just gotten my attention,” Colson complained, padding along beside him.</p>
<p>“That’s what I did,” he agreed. “Not my problem if you don’t like my methods.”</p>
<p>“That hurt though,” the blond mumbled.</p>
<p>He ignored that and led the grumbling blond inside, then went to disarm the security alarm, setting it to ‘at home’ and flicked on a few lights. The younger rapper followed him and kinda swayed to peek around corners while he waited, curiously checking out his living situation as subtly as a 6’4” blond on stimulants could manage. “So,” he said, grabbing Colson’s attention a little less violently this time, “you cool with me showing you around after we eat this?” he held up the bag. “Fries are gonna get cold,” he explained, noting the slightly disappointed look on the blond’s face.</p>
<p>“Yeah, whatever,” Colson said, shrugging. “I’ll probably get lost trying to find a bathroom in this place, but hot fries are a priority.” he looked around longingly but trounced over and dug a fry out of the bag, as if reminded of their existence.</p>
<p>Marshall watched him munch a fry, and the younger man’s face lit up. “Yo how the fuck are these still warm though?”</p>
<p>“Fuck if I know. My money is on voodoo, though,” he offered, holding the bag open.</p>
<p>“Worth the risk, these seriously don’t suck.” Grabbing another, the blond wandered off and Marshall followed, shaking his head. </p>
<p>He led the blond to one of the living rooms near the back of the house, steering the younger man when necessary since he was a little spacey and kept wandering off in the wrong direction, peeking into rooms curiously. As a result, he ended up giving a half-assed tour along their route anyway. The room he brought him to backed up to the pool, and led out to an enclosed patio and hot tub area. Inside the room, there was small bar built in, a tv and sound system, and plenty of comfortable seating. The bar, aside from a stocked wine rack he kept for when his daughters brought their friends around, was otherwise devoid of alcohol and had been for over a decade now.</p>
<p>“Water, soda, or gatorade?” he asked, peeking in the fridge behind the bar while Colson looked around. The blond had gone to stare out the back window, and didn’t answer immediately. “Kells, you with me?”</p>
<p>“Huh?” he turned and flickered his eyes over Marshall as if trying to understand the context of the question. “Oh, uh, water. I’m fucking spacing out, sorry.”</p>
<p>“Are you ok?” Marshall asked, grabbing two waters and carrying his armful of food and drinks to the coffee table. The blond nodded, not bothering to turn around.</p>
<p>“I’ll get less weird. Give me a minute,” he said. </p>
<p>Em raised an eyebrow, fondly watching Colson eyeball his pool out back. “Stay weird, but like, let me feed you real fast before your pale, lanky ass passes out on my floor.”</p>
<p>“Can I go jump in your pool?”</p>
<p>Marshall looked at the younger man in mild disbelief. “Should I remind you how you literally moaned over my heated seats less than thirty minutes ago, and it hasn’t exactly gotten warmer out there. What’s your deal with trying to die from hypothermia?”</p>
<p>“What’s your deal with trying to feed me all the time?” he countered, ignoring the question. He did turn and come plop himself down on the couch, though, giving Marshall a downright petulant look.</p>
<p>“I have a feeding fetish,” Marshall told him seriously.</p>
<p>That earned him a reluctant little smile. “Dude, shut up.”</p>
<p>“Force-feeding, specifically. The more uncomfortable you are, the better,” he continued.</p>
<p>Colson shook his head, disgusted but losing the battle not to laugh. “Coming here with you was a huge mistake,” he said.</p>
<p>“Yeah, definitely, but you’re still fuckin’ here,” Marshall shrugged his agreement. “Is that a no? Could be really hot, I’ll get like some gloves on and a feeding tube and like shove it up your nose…” he trailed off as Colson doubled over laughing. “Burger smoothie up your nose could be a good time,” he added, somehow keeping a straight face.</p>
<p>“That is so fucking gross,” Colson told him, giggling uncontrollably.</p>
<p>“If by gross, you mean I have impeccable taste. And you like feet, so you don’t get to talk,” he added, pulling out food and plopping it down in front of the giggling younger man. “Now eat your damn food before I make shit weird.”</p>
<p>“Weirder,” Colson corrected. </p>
<p>“Weirder,” he agreed, smirking. </p>
<p>The blond rolled his eyes and munched another fry, then seemed to think of something. “Whoa, hold up. You watch my interviews?”</p>
<p>Marshall gave him a clueless look, but Colson just grinned. “You do, don’t you. Otherwise, how the fuck would you know I like feet?”</p>
<p>“You aren’t exactly private about it,” he said, shrugging. </p>
<p>The kid looked really excited by the idea for some reason, and Marshall actually found it incredibly cute. “Yeah, I watched some of them,” he admitted, and Colson’s grin grew a little giddy before he shut it down. The older man caught it anyway, and smiled to himself. “Never seen someone so excited that I know they suck toes. That’s a new one.”</p>
<p>Colson shoved him in the arm, smiling shyly. “Shut up Em. I just like that I got under your skin so much that you stalk me on youtube.”</p>
<p>Marshall hummed in amusement. The almost innocent way the younger man flirted with him was downright adorable. He clearly wasn’t feeling like himself, but at least it seemed like the kid wanted to be here. “Under my skin huh?”</p>
<p>“Obviously,” the blond scoffed. “You wrote me two whole diss tracks. When is the last time anyone had you pressed like that?”</p>
<p>The balls on this kid… Marshall fought a smile. “I mean it took you a few years to get my attention, but I’ll give you that much. You got me a little riled up. Proud of yourself?”</p>
<p>Colson leaned back, smiling a little bitterly, and Marshall noted the exact moment the kid’s mood shifted. It was like an intrusive thought kicked down whatever positivity was still there and started dancing on the corpse. “Yes and no…” the blond’s face fell, and Marshall took a little breath. “Honestly, no, I’m not proud of the way I got your attention in the first place. I owe you an apology for using your daughter like that.”</p>
<p>That actually caught the older man by surprise and he paused, feeling an old familiar anger in his gut; a low simmer compared to what it could be. He hadn’t expected his daughter to come up in conversation tonight, assuming the younger man would try to avoid talking about it altogether, and he hadn’t mentally prepared himself for it. The younger man’s mood swings were to blame, clearly, but it didn’t make the topic any easier to approach.</p>
<p>Obviously, he hadn’t forgotten that Colson had called his then-underage daughter hot… years ago. Sure he’d heard about it more recently, but he was aware the blond had been maybe 20 at the time, and he also remembered what he’d been like at that age himself. True to hypocritical form, he’d still been pissed to hear about it, but being a grown ass man with perspective, he’d been less pissed about it than he’d maybe let on.</p>
<p>His daughter was now established out on her own, and in a stable relationship, and the least of his problems parenting her had to do with beating away heavily tattooed rappers from trying to woo her. Especially one like Colson, who was spectacularly not her type. Thank god for that. </p>
<p>Emerging from his thoughts, he realized he was staring ahead with a slightly murderous expression, and the blond was watching him apprehensively. He looked at the kid, noting how the blood had drained from his face, and sighed, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.</p>
<p>“I’m an idiot,” Colson said. “That was fucked up of me.”</p>
<p>Marshall took a slow breath.</p>
<p>“Especially since I’m a father,” he continued, spurred on by guilt, most likely. “If someone had tried to use Casie to get to me I’d be so fucking pissed—“</p>
<p>“Colson.”</p>
<p>The blond shut up real fast. </p>
<p>“You’re fine. Relax. Apology accepted.”</p>
<p>He sucked his lower lip and finally lowered his eyes to the younger man, noting the bewildered look on his face and the suspicious squint around his eyes. “Really?” Colson asked, his disbelief thick in his tone.</p>
<p>“Mhmm,” Marshall nodded. “Obviously don’t do it again or I’ll kill you. You should know better by now. But yeah, we’re good.”</p>
<p>“Oh…”</p>
<p>Surprising him further, Colson didn’t look relieved or even better than he had at the beginning of his clumsy apology; in fact, he looked nauseous as his eyes fell to the floor. </p>
<p>“Alright?” </p>
<p>Colson swung his eyes back up and laughed sheepishly, his complexion pasty white. “I will be  in a minute, sorry. I just… that just seems so easy, you know?”</p>
<p>Did the kid want him to be angry? His confusion must have shown on his face, because the blond shrugged and shook his head. “… never mind. Uh. Thanks for forgiving me.”</p>
<p>Marshall stared at him for a moment, wondering what he needed to do to help the younger man relax. Then it hit him.</p>
<p>He knew exactly what to do for him.</p>
<p>The younger man’s emotions were a mess; unsatisfied with his apology being accepted so easily and wound tight like a spring. He probably didn’t even know what he needed, he was just a confused bundle of guilt and shame and insecurity.</p>
<p>Marshall smiled to himself.</p>
<p>“Em?” the blond looked up and met his eyes. “Hey uh, where’s your bathroom?”</p>
<p>Hah. Inevitable.</p>
<p>“I’ll show you in a second. Come here.” Marshall scooted closer to the blond, slipping an arm around his waist. Taking a second to enjoy the audible gasp and the way Colson’s eyes flew wide, he slipped his hands into the younger man’s pockets, fishing around. “What are you…” the blond said, trailing off as he figured out the answer to his own question, his face falling.</p>
<p>Marshall found what he was looking for, sliding his right arm out of the pocket with a little baggy pinched between his middle and index fingers. </p>
<p>“I wasn’t going to use any more of it tonight,” Colson complained.</p>
<p>“Good, cus you ain’t doing coke in my house. But now the temptation is gone too,” Marshall told him, not believing him for a second. “I’ll show you where the bathroom is, and then I wanna talk to you about something.”</p>
<p>————————</p>
<p>Colson splashed water on his face, feeling sorry for himself, and some mixture between annoyed and grateful towards the man currently waiting for him back in the other room.</p>
<p>He didn’t know what possessed him to bring up Hailie, but there were a lot of things wrong with the way his brain was firing right now. It had been building all week, just to peak at the worst possible time. Either way, Em had asked him if he was ‘proud’ of getting under his skin, and the first thing that had popped into his head was that he’d disrespected another man’s daughter, and for what? </p>
<p>Now, feud in the rear-view and dopamine depleted, all he could see was his own daughter’s face and wonder what it felt like, especially now that he’d gotten to know Em a little and been inside his house. It humanized him, made him more man than legend, and for the first time he really considered how Em must have felt hearing some rapper he barely knew making waves with his daughter’s name in their mouth. Had Em stooped low enough to return that favor, he didn’t think he’d feel a fraction of the respect he had for him anymore. </p>
<p>The way he was feeling, he’d almost wanted Em to get angry, to validate the guilt eating at him a little by tearing into him. Of course, he hadn’t realized that was what he wanted or expected until Em did the exact opposite and forgave him. So easily too.</p>
<p>It was… frustrating. Almost as frustrating as Em sliding up against him out of nowhere only to pilfer his drugs. Asshole took advantage of the fact that every time he touched the blond, his brain short-circuited. Dirty tactics. He didn’t think he’d be getting the baggy back either, so that sucked. He’d been lying, naturally, dying to go do another bump so he could stabilize his mood a little. Nothing like what he’d done on the bus, of course, just a little pick me up. A gut punch of shame, remembering their conversation in the car, kept him from reacting more than he did. He wasn’t sure he’d put up with that from literally anyone else, but things were different when it came to Em and he wasn’t entirely sure why.</p>
<p>Giving his reflection one last disapproving glance, Colson dried his neck off with a hand towel and left the bathroom, heading back to where he’d last seen Em. The older man’s house was almost exactly what he may have expected it would be like on the inside, and he really kinda wanted to see the rest of it, but he also realized his idol’s affinity for privacy was more than just a personality quirk so he didn’t push for it. If Em wanted to show him around, he would. Besides, he had more pressing concerns, like whatever the fuck Em wanted to talk to him about now.</p>
<p>Probably not the drugs again. Eminem the rapper may like to beat a dead horse in his music, but Colson was quickly learning that Marshall, the man, was all grown up now and more likely to forgive a stupid misdeed than make your life hell about it. </p>
<p>Not knowing what was coming made the younger man a bit nervous, admittedly, because he wasn’t feeling one-hundred percent. Going into a potential argument not firing on all cylinders  and with no idea what it was about, was like walking into a test without studying, or going on stage without rehearsing; you’re just kinda hoping you can fudge your way through, and results may vary. </p>
<p>He peeked back into the room they’d been in, but Eminem wasn’t in there. Frowning, he shrugged and walked in anyway, looking around to see if Em had left his baggy of coke lying around. When he didn’t find it, he sighed and peered out the back window again, the desire to plunge himself into ice cold water pretty fucking strong. He’d done it before when he couldn’t get his head under control, and it had helped, so the swirly backlit water looked extra inviting.</p>
<p>A touch on his arm nearly sent him into cardiac arrest, and he spun around with a yelp. Em was standing there, looking at him with his eyes sparkling from amusement.</p>
<p>“The fuck, Em?” he said, rubbing his hands over his face roughly, mussing his hair in the process.</p>
<p>“Whoops,” Em said heartlessly, “On a scale of one to ten, how pissed are you that I took your drugs?” He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking out at the pool himself.</p>
<p>“Like a six” he said honestly. “But I feel like shit, so that’s just me being salty.” He let it go unsaid that he’d fully intended to go use more in the bathroom, but he knew Em knew it anyway. </p>
<p>Em sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and looked at him, and Colson’s gut fluttered pleasantly. He couldn’t recall the last time he was this attracted to someone, especially after they pulled a stunt like that. </p>
<p>“So,” Em said, “tell me something.”</p>
<p><i>Here we go…</i> Colson braced himself for whatever new hole Em was about to tear him. “Yeah?”</p>
<p>“You didn’t want me to forgive you that fast. Why?”</p>
<p>So it was about the Hailie thing. He took a little breath and let it out. “Because… I don’t know,” he admitted, but then paused. “Because it was wrong of me? Life is kinda kicking my ass right now, and meanwhile you’re the last person who should be this nice to me…” he trailed off.</p>
<p>“And you don’t think you deserve it?” Em finished for him, giving him a mild, questioning look.</p>
<p>Colson snapped his mouth shut and nodded once, looking back out the window. </p>
<p>“Did you want me yell at you?” he asked. “What outcome were you hoping for?”</p>
<p>“Fuck,” he sighed, frustrated. “I don’t know. I’m just a massive buzzkill today. You’re probably regretting bringing me here, too.”</p>
<p>“Nope,” Em said shortly. “I raised three girls, you really think I can’t navigate your pissy little mood swings? I actually know something that will help you, if you’re feeling open-minded.”</p>
<p>Curious despite himself, he gave Eminem a grateful look. “Yeah, ok,” he said, willing to do just about whatever he could to distract himself a little. </p>
<p>“Didn’t even tell you what it is yet,” Em said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. </p>
<p>“Em, honestly, I don’t care,” he huffed, folding his arms in front of his chest. “If you told me to go stand naked in the cold right now and dump ice water over my head, I’d just ask you where I could find a bucket.”</p>
<p>Em gave him a look that was both fond and a little surprised. “That answer was kind of perfect,” he told him, and Colson looked away self-consciously, feeling so many things. “I’m gonna need you to remember you said that in a few minutes.”</p>
<p>Colson gave him a look. “Well now I’m worried,” he said, only half joking.</p>
<p>“You’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>Following Em out of the room and up a flight of stairs, the blond tried not to speculate too hard on whatever the older man had planned for him. Em seemed relaxed as he led him through the house, peeking into rooms as they went and sort of showing him around some of the other parts of the house with commentary here and there. He discovered during this particular little tour that Em really liked comic books, and had an entire room dedicated to their storage. He also learned that his youngest adopted daughter still lived there with him, although she wasn’t there at the moment. That information made him think of his own daughter and how he would be seeing her in just a few days. In his current frame of mind, it only spurred his guilt and shame further. When he was away on tour, he stepped away from parenting for the most part, and he wasn’t too proud of who he’d been lately while away. It was going to be hard to face her, feeling like this.</p>
<p>They finally made it to a set of double doors that Colson correctly guessed led to a master bedroom. The inside of the tidy, yet lived-in room was masculine, with a dark color scheme and furnished much in the same subtly wealthy way the rest of his house was. Colson looked around nervously. “This is your bedroom,” he said, stating the obvious. </p>
<p>“Yup. Relax, babycakes. If I wanted to degrade you and make you crawl around on all fours, I could have done that in my living room,” Em told him good-naturedly. “That’s not why we’re here.”</p>
<p>“Can you just not with the embarrassing pet names right now?” Colson groaned. He looked around, blushing, quietly a little happy that Em could read him well enough to know he wasn’t feeling up to the type of game they’d played yesterday. If Em called him a slut right now, he’d probably just straight up kill himself. </p>
<p>“Sit on my bed,” Em told him, ignoring the complaint. The older man went into an adjoining room for a minute, leaving him alone, and Colson did what he’d said. He spaced out a little, looking out the window. There wasn’t much to see since it was dark, but it didn’t matter much. He was lost in his own head anyway.</p>
<p>When Em returned a moment later, he had a little black duffel bag with him, and he dragged a chair from where it sat against the side of the room to the foot of his bed. Placing the chair in front of Colson, he sat down and placed the bag next to him. The blond eyeballed it. “What’s in there?”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it.” Em leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, looking up at the blond enigmatically. “So, we <i>are</i> gonna play, but nothing like yesterday.”</p>
<p>Colson was starting to rethink this whole deal. “Yo, what? That’s it, just ‘we’re gonna play?’”</p>
<p>Em gave him a flat look. “I’m gonna get your consent first, princess, damn. I recall something about a bucket of ice water…?”</p>
<p>Rolling his eyes, he gestured and placed his head in his hand, mimicking Em’s posture somewhat. “Yeah, fine, what are we doing? I mean last time you didn’t even bother to tell me what was going on, so what the hell?”</p>
<p>Em tilted his head from side to side grudgingly. “Yeah, not my proudest moment. Told you I’d fucked up. But this time it’s kinda important you know what’s happening.”</p>
<p>“But you still won’t tell me what’s in the bag,” he countered, kind of enjoying the argument a little.</p>
<p>“Colson? Shut up. You’ll fucking find out if you stop talking,” Em shook his head and closed his eyes briefly. “Look,” he said, his tone changing, softening, “Pain is good for this sort of thing,” he said, meeting his gaze again. “So I’m going to hurt you a little bit.”</p>
<p>God, if that wasn’t the last fucking thing he expected to hear. </p>
<p>The way Em had said it… his heart rate increased in anticipation before he’d even processed the words completely. Once he did, however, he blinked quietly and looked down at his feet.</p>
<p>Colson wasn’t exactly a stranger to the endorphins released by pain, so the reasoning behind it wasn’t foreign to him. The thing that threw him was that he’d never had someone offer to intentionally inflict pain on him, outside the pretense of a tattoo. This was something of uncharted territory for him, but honestly, he couldn’t think of anything more perfect right now.</p>
<p>After a long moment, in which he actually shut up for the first time since the conversation began, Em sat up straighter. “There it is,” he said with a little smile. </p>
<p>“What?” Colson asked, his throat like sandpaper.</p>
<p>“You finally shut up,” Em told him, a curious smile creeping across his face. “I’m starting to think you do that when something excites you. That’s cute.”</p>
<p>Colson huffed and rolled his eyes, wishing he weren’t so fucking transparent. “Hurt me how?” he asked quietly, eyeballing the bag again. He thought he may have some small idea what was in there now. His apprehension melted away.</p>
<p>Em hummed at his change in demeanor, his expressive eyes a little dark. “Well, it doesn’t involve ice water, I’ll tell you that much. I’ll just show you, but make sure you talk to me if you start to hate it,” Colson’s idol paused, his eyes flickering over his face. “Ok? Safe word is ‘red.’ Use it if you feel panicky or if it’s too much.”</p>
<p>Colson frowned. “Can’t I just say stop?” he protested, thinking that sounded a little unnecessary. The older man’s eyes softened, but he shook his head.</p>
<p>“Some people say stop when they play like this, but don’t mean it. I don’t know if you are one of those yet. Think of ‘red’ as a code word for ‘this isn’t fun anymore, get the fuck away from me.’ Or shake your head three times like this,” he demonstrated the motion. “Ok? Honestly, you can talk to me the whole time anyway. I’ll be paying attention and checking in. But it’s there if you need it.”</p>
<p>That made Colson feel a certain way, almost vulnerable, and he looked everywhere except at the man in front of him. “K, fine,” he mumbled. “Now can we…?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” The older man reached down and unzipped the bag near his feet. “We’re gonna start slow, so don’t get frustrated with me. I need to see what works for you and what doesn’t.”</p>
<p>Colson felt something expand in his chest, though he didn’t analyze it too hard. He was practically buzzing beneath his skin, anxious to feel something different than how he felt now, and Em’s lightly accented voice was calm and reassuring.</p>
<p>Em took his arm, wrapping his fingers around his wrist, and pronated it so he had access to the back of his forearm. Colson watched curiously, allowing himself to manipulated, while Em pinched some of the taut skin between his fingers and twisted hard.</p>
<p>Colson’s eyes tightened from the mild sting, and he looked at Em questioningly. Em met his eyes thoughtfully, before releasing his arm and rifling through his bag.</p>
<p>He pulled out a funny looking, black rubbery thing. It was flat on the sides, nearly the length of his forearm. It was maybe three fingers wide and had a handle, all the same, somewhat wobbly material but tapered so the handle was several times thicker than the business end. Em gazed at it. “This thing hurts. You wanna try it on your arm?”</p>
<p>Colson looked at the innocent looking object skeptically. “That thing does?”</p>
<p>Em just smiled, a little devious glint in his eyes, and that look was enough. The blond held his arm out again. The older man took him by the wrist, and turned it over to give access to the inside of his forearm this time. He paused just long enough to place the object against Colson’s skin up closer to the elbow, and met his eyes. Then he pulled back and slapped it across the same spot.</p>
<p>The sting was powerful and immediate, and if Em hadn’t been firmly holding his wrist, he may have jerked his arm away to pull it close to his body. Pain lit up across his entire forearm and Colson bit his lip, eyes slipping shut and torso swaying forward a little as the hairs stood up on the top of his head.</p>
<p>It was fucking perfect. Like fireworks in his brain.</p>
<p>His eyes watered, and he blinked a few times, meeting his idol’s eyes. Em had been watching him, and there was a little smile on his face. He placed the object on his thigh and rubbed at the welt with this thumb. It made the sting repeat a little, with little aftershocks as he teased the edges of the reddening, tattooed skin.</p>
<p>Colson blinked again rapidly, a calm washing over him. He didn’t say anything, just stared down at his arm and watched the welt form.</p>
<p>Em studied his face and turned his arm over again.</p>
<p>He watched as Em picked up the slapper again and he inhaled in anticipation just before Em whipped it across the back of his arm too. It felt like a strip of fire, and it burned, but wasn’t quite the same. The older man watched him thoughtfully and went back to the inside of his arm; then slapped down again, just below the first welt.</p>
<p>A little sound escaped his throat this time, and he felt overwhelmed; not from the pain, but from emotions, as something clicked in his head.</p>
<p>“Em?” he said, voice thick, and Em’s eyes slid from his arm back to his face. </p>
<p>“Yeah sweetheart?”</p>
<p>“Thank you for this.”</p>
<p>The older man looked a little awed. “You’re welcome. Ready to try something else?”</p>
<p>Colson’s eyes slid back to the slapper and he swallowed roughly, unsure how to voice what he was thinking. Em seemed to understand anyway. “Other arm, kiddo,” he said gently, releasing the first one. Colson extended it and inhaled as Em’s fingers wrapped around it firmly. </p>
<p>More decisively this time, Em repeated what he’d done on his other arm, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he slapped fire across Colson’s skin. It was harder than the last couple of slaps, and Colson gasped, his eyes rolled up inside his eyelids, full body tensing as he processed the sensation, toes and fists clenching. Without giving him much of a break this time, Em hit him again, just below the first one, and Colson yelped in surprise and pain, nearly coming up off the bed. Em held his wrist tight though, so he stayed put somehow, letting the intensity wash over him rather than diffusing it with movement. That added a new layer, and Colson huffed out a little laugh.</p>
<p>Em mirrored his laugh with one of his own. “That feel nice?” he asked.</p>
<p>Closing his eyes again, he sighed and nodded. Another loud slap smacked across his arm while his eyes were shut, and he whimpered, dropping his head forward. The three stripes across the inside of his forearm throbbed hotly, the most recent one still burning, and he started to chuckle under his breath.</p>
<p>When no more pain came, he opened his eyes a little and gazed down at his arm. Just as he did so, another slap rang through the room, pain lancing over the top of the other welts, and Colson cried out a little. That one surprised him, and it made his gut flutter with an unknown emotion that felt a little bit like fear, but not quite. He tried to pull his arm away but Em kept it held tight. The older man waited patiently for him to tackle the emotion and stop fighting back, before he finally allowed him to pull away.</p>
<p>“Colson?” Em’s voice drew his eyes up and he blinked at the older man, his sight a little blurry.    “Stand up and take your jeans off. Boxers can stay.”</p>
<p>A few minutes ago, he probably would have felt a little self-conscious about taking his pants off while seated on Em’s bed, but he wasn’t even thinking about that anymore. Totally focused on the throbbing in his forearms that was slowly fading to a dull twinge, he moved clumsily to do what Em asked so he could experience more of whatever the older man chose to dish out. As he stood, less that a foot from a seated Em, and started removing his jeans, his eyes drifted back to the bag. </p>
<p>“What else you got in there?” he asked, kicking his shoes off. He sat back down and absently tugged the jeans off over his feet.</p>
<p>Em gave him that same curious, awed expression. “I have a little masochist on my hands,” he said, and he didn’t sound even slightly disappointed.</p>
<p>He stood just as Colson finished getting situated again and easily kicked the blond’s legs apart, casually taking ownership of the younger man’s personal bubble and cupping his jaw in one hand. Colson looked up at the older man looming above him, his mind fuzzy, and he smirked just a little. </p>
<p>“Have you done this before?” Em asked him, narrowing his eyes. Colson licked his lower lip and shook his head.</p>
<p>“Nope,” he said.</p>
<p>Em huffed and rubbed a thumb lightly over the blond’s lower lip, causing him to gasp, before letting go. </p>
<p>“Good. Most people don’t know what the fuck they’re doing.” The older man sounded happy about it, a possessive undercurrent in his tone. It was unusual, being the subject of that sort of attention; not bad, but also not something he was used to.</p>
<p>Something he recognized now however, the second time around, was this mental state he was in. It reminded him of the sex-drunk, worshippy mindset he’d had between Eminem’s legs yesterday, only there was no sex involved in what they were doing now. Em was just… hurting him, but he was doing it so carefully and intentionally; reading his reactions and manipulating them. It had only been a few minutes, but it was still the most undivided attention Colson had received in a long time, and it felt good. He looked down as Em backed up and pulled something else out of the bag. </p>
<p>His focus had been so much on the pain, Colson just then realized that he was sporting a chub in his boxers, for how long he had no idea. Colson was shocked that he hadn’t noticed it. It made him feel a little self-conscious, both because he hadn’t had that type of reaction to pain before, but also because it made what they were doing seem more intimate.</p>
<p>But he supposed allowing someone free reign to inflict pain on you was probably pretty intimate already. In that moment, that headspace, Em could have done whatever he wanted to him, and he wasn’t sure he’d say no.</p>
<p>Yeah. He supposed that was intimate, alright.</p>
<p>A tsk snapped him out of it and he looked up again to see Em holding a thin wooden stick with a brown leather handle casually in his fist at his side, but his eyes were reading Colson’s body language. “Hey, you still with me?” Em asked, cupping his jaw again. “I’m gonna give you a bruise. I want you to pay attention.” </p>
<p>Colson nodded. “I am,” he said. “I’m just thinking.”</p>
<p>The older man narrowed his eyes. “You still doing ok?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Good. Remember you have a safe word. This is going to hurt.”</p>
<p>Em set the stick down on the bed, and used his other hand to grip that same spot he’d been so handsy with in the car. Now that it was skin to skin, it made the blond shiver as Em’s fingertips probed and squeezed until he found the nerviest spot about midway up on his inner thigh, watching Colson carefully until he tensed up at the touch.</p>
<p>Unlike with the stuff on his forearm, this position actually evoked a little fear in the younger man. Maybe it was that Em was looming over him, or holding his face still, or maybe it had to do with the spot he was gripping being so much closer to the center of his body and far more sensitive than his arms. He gasped a little as Em established his grip where he wanted it, the older man’s eyes drifting back to meet his own. They were inches apart, Em standing so close he could smell him, and Colson couldn’t help the little panting breaths puffing out of him as he met the older man’s blue eyes.</p>
<p>Without warning, the hand on his thigh clamped down into the sensitive skin and muscle there, hard enough to bruise, and Colson’s eyes flew wide. “F-fuck!” A starburst of intense pain had him buckling forward, dislodging the hand on his face. Unable to control his initial instinct to get away, Colson yelped and grasped ineffectually at Em’s chest and arm as shocks of pain radiated from a pinpointed spot in waves, overwhelming his brain with signals. </p>
<p>The older man continued to squeeze the spot, pulling the blond to him with a hand on the back of his neck, holding him still as he convulsed and whimpered, murmuring ‘stop stop stop’ into Em’s tshirt. Em ignored him, clamping the spot in his grip a few times, eliciting further struggles. </p>
<p>The grip gradually released, and Colson continued to spasm and tense while little sounds punched out of him, then collapsed against Em’s chest, breathing heavily. “Ow,” he mumbled. “Fuck.”</p>
<p>Em hummed above him. “You doing ok?”</p>
<p>Colson took a deep breath and slowly let it out, pushing himself back up. “Yeah…”</p>
<p>“Want me to do the other one?” Em asked softly, his hand still lightly gripping the back of the younger man’s neck.</p>
<p>He pushed back enough to see Em’s eyes, feeling drunk. He blinked a few times as if coming up from underwater, then laughed shakily. “Yes please,” he said.</p>
<p>Em chuckled. “So this is what it takes to make you use your manners huh?” he teased, his eyes fond as he started kneading at the inflamed, bruised spot on the blond’s leg. </p>
<p>Colson wasn’t expecting it to feel how it did, uncomfortably pleasant, like overstimulation after an orgasm, and he almost melted. Em pinched and rolled the developing bruise, punching little helpless sounds out of the younger man as the tender spot throbbed and twinged deeply. It sent little nervy jolts to the spot just behind Colson’s balls, and he collapsed against Em’s chest again while the older man worried at the spot. “Gotta rough you up like a little pain bunny before you say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’? You’re something else.”</p>
<p>The blond couldn’t answer; his eyes were shut, forehead pressed against Em’s sternum. He trembled a little as Em finally released his leg. He sighed, tension releasing from his muscles in little shivers. </p>
<p>“That was…” he trailed off breathily, rubbing his face into Em’s shirt unconsciously. He smelled really nice.</p>
<p>Em massaged the base of his skull with his fingertips. “Mm… ready for the next one?”</p>
<p>Colson just nodded into his tshirt, and the older man’s chest rumbled with a chuckle that Colson felt in his face. “Sit up,” Em said, guiding his head back with a grip on his neck. He then moved his hand to the other thigh at roughly the same spot. Colson looked down and noted there was already a deep, purple-black bruise blossoming where Em’s hand had been. He was also lazily hard against his hip, easily visible in his boxer-briefs.</p>
<p>He ignored it, mostly just fascinated with the bruise. “Whoa,” he said, poking it. It was tender, and he pressed harder with several fingers to see if he could make it hurt the same way. Em tilted his chin up again. </p>
<p>“Uh uh, pay attention,” he said. He winked then clamped down on the other leg, somehow harder than last time. Colson cried out behind a bit lip, his jaw trapped in Em’s grip, and this time he rode waves of pain staring into his idol’s blue eyes, noting the sadistic glint there, his own watering until he couldn’t see anymore. He blinked, dislodging tears that rolled down his face.</p>
<p>Em let him ride it for a moment but didn’t draw it out like last time, releasing this one much sooner. The hand gripping the younger man’s face softened and a thumb swiped at the tears. “Are we crying or just leaking a little?” Em asked, his voice rough and gravelly. </p>
<p>The blond shivered and released his lip from between his teeth. “M’ ok,” he mumbled. “Why’d you stop?”</p>
<p>Em shook his head, looking a little worked up. “Fuck… Colson,” he swore, laughing in disbelief. “Scoot forward a little, feet up here on the bed frame.” </p>
<p>Colson raised his feet the few inches and rested them on the frame, which he guessed gave Em a little better access, while Em backed up a few steps, grabbing the stick off the bed, and Colson looked down at the slightly asymmetrical black bruises on each leg. The stick slid into his vision, slipping down to the bruise Em just made. “What is that?” Colson asked, hissing when Em started tapping the blackened spot with it. The innocent little taps stung.</p>
<p>“Rattan cane,” Em told him, whipping it into the bruise a little harder. Colson yelped and tried to close his legs, but Em pushed them apart again. “Keep em still,” he ordered. “I want to mark you.”</p>
<p>Colson didn’t have time to think about that too hard, but he met his idol’s eyes briefly and tried to do as he said. The look Em gave him sent shivers down his spine that had very little to do with pain.</p>
<p>Em crouched down eye-level with Colson’s groin, sliding his eyes slowly from the blond’s face to his legs, focused. He lightly tapped against the same spot, watching the blond’s face, then whipped hard against the bruise again. It stung like crazy, but it was the after shock that really hurt, and Colson tensed convulsively, hissing. Em resumed the tapping almost immediately, a little harder now, causing the younger man’s thighs to shake as he breathed through it. </p>
<p>“Oh my god,” he said, covering his face with his hands as Em continued a series of off rhythm taps and harder, painful whips with the cane, decorating the inside of Colson’s thighs with stripes of stingy pain. Some of them, Em whipped down and kept there, pressed against the skin, and for some reason those were a different intensity, sending shocks deep into the younger man’s muscle, causing him to shake like a leaf from head to toe. He breathed through them, his thighs trembling, whimpering and tensing even when Em would stop to give him a break. The sensations built on one another, and even when nothing was happening, he felt himself start to flinch at intervals.</p>
<p>The intensity grew, both the physical pain and the emotional aspect of whatever this was, and Colson started to slip into a different place in his mind, where his entire focus was on processing sensations. The world seemed fuzzy around the edges, but he distinctly saw the blue of Em’s eyes looking up at him when he peeked between his fingers.</p>
<p>After one particularly hard whack, Colson let out a long, pained moan and tried to twist away, but Em said, “Uh uh, where do you think you’re going?” and with effort the blond slid back into place.</p>
<p>“Em that fucking hurts,” he said, his voice fragmented.</p>
<p>The older man hummed and assessed him a moment, then dropped the cane into his bag and sat down on the bed next to him. “How are you doing?” he asked, his hand gently wrapping around Colson’s throbbing thigh. The blond flinched, tensing in anticipation, before relaxing and letting out a little gasp when Em merely rested his hand there. The flesh underneath it was hot and angry.</p>
<p>Colson opened his mouth to respond, then blinked a few times and swallowed dryly, looking at Em. “I just need a minute,” he said, a tear slipping down his face.</p>
<p>“You want to stop?” Em asked, wiping the tear with his thumb. </p>
<p>Shaking his head, he inhaled, feeling the pad of Em’s thumb drag wetly over his cheek. “No,” he said. Through all of this, tears had been leaking from his eyes, but there was still a brick in his chest that wouldn’t crack.</p>
<p>The older man nodded. “One more thing, and then we’re done for the night, ok? These inner thighs have had enough, either way.”</p>
<p>Feeling a wash of gratitude for the man next to him, relieved they were moving away from his inner thighs but also that it wasn’t over yet, Colson moved on instinct and turned to bury his face in Em’s shoulder. He trembled a little and sighed, inhaling his scent. Em reached up and pet his hair. “You’re doing so good,” he said quietly. “Take your time, let me know when you’re ready again.”</p>
<p>Colson’s eyes slipped shut and he floated, cheek pressed against his Em’s shoulder, a hand rubbing little circles on his scalp.</p>
<p>After a moment, he pushed himself back up and met Em’s eyes. The older man smiled. “Ready?” he asked, then manhandled the blond so he fell across his lap. Colson’s eyes widened, not having expected that, and he started to push himself up but a warning ‘uh uh’ from Em made him reconsider. Em was far back on the bed enough that the most natural place for his legs was one dangling over the side, his groin slotted against Em’s hip.</p>
<p>His butt was sort of angled up in the air and he felt a blush creeping across his cheeks as he realized he was still mostly hard and pressed up against Eminem with it. “This is embarrassing,” he mumbled, pressing his face into the bedding.</p>
<p>“Don’t think like that. It’s just me here,” Em said. The words made Colson’s eyes blur up with tears randomly and he was grateful to be facing down. The older man’s hand was resting on the back of his upper thigh while he waited for the blond to settle, and his thumb rubbed in little circles, making him shiver.</p>
<p>His entire body felt like it was flooded with endorphins, but at the same time he was randomly trembling as if he were cold. It was a strange sensation. Colson folded his arms under his face and turned to the side, sighing. “Ok,” he said.</p>
<p>Em’s hand rubbed up and down the length of his thigh, then gripped the waistband of his boxers and slid them down below Colson’s ass. “Em?” Colson asked, not sure what he was asking. </p>
<p>“Lift your hips just a little bit.” He tapped the side of his hip and Colson did what he said, allowing Em to shimmy them down just a little more so they were below the crease of his thigh. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling like a child, but he was too far gone by now to fight Em on anything. He let his now unclothed cock rest against Em’s clothed hip, and felt the older man’s hand rub across his ass, and he panted quietly into his arms, turning his burning face into the covers. </p>
<p>So far for the younger man, this part of their ‘game’ was fucking with his head the most.</p>
<p>“Remember, if you want me to stop, you need to safe word. I’m going to let it play out for you, otherwise, sweetheart, ok?”</p>
<p>Colson nodded into his arms, and Em acknowledged it by ruffling his hair.</p>
<p>He didn’t know why, but the first smack surprised him. </p>
<p>He jumped, full body shaking, and Em rubbed a little over the spot, allowing him to settle again. The second smack was about the same and he took a breath, tensing as the sting and thud from Em’s open-palmed hit wracked his core. </p>
<p>Em hit him again, then again, his hand alternating positions here and there, but his favorite spot seemed to be the underside of his ass where it met thigh, and each one of those punched a little groan out of the young man and sent a thud deep inside of him, causing him to tense his entire lower body.</p>
<p>Picking up speed, Em started to rain down smacks on his ass, directly in the middle, and that’s when Colson realized he couldn’t get away, cus he tried. He started to squirm away, his thighs tensing as the pain built on itself and he actually began to struggle for real for the first time since this whole thing started. </p>
<p>Em, however, did not stop or let up the intensity, and he used a forearm across his back to press the blond back down. Colson hadn’t realized how much stronger the older man was until that moment, and he yelped as he was held in place, nowhere for the pain to go but inward, and Em continued to spank him mercilessly.</p>
<p>Acceptance and panic, a strange combination, warred in his brain and he felt that brick in his chest start to unravel even as his muscles tensed against the pain, noises spilling out of him unchecked and barely heard in his own ears.</p>
<p>Just as he thought he might break, Em’s flurry of smacks stopped, and he rubbed his hand soothingly over the area he’d just abused. Colson exhaled convulsively, his entire frame shaking.</p>
<p>He trembled, the tension unbunching gradually as his brain processed he was no longer being hit, and he panted into the bed, a pressure building behind his eyes. Em’s hand rubbed on his back, sending the wordless signal that he was done.</p>
<p>Em let him lay there for a few minutes, just breathing and shivering, his mind deliciously blank.</p>
<p>“Hey Colson?” he said finally, still rubbing circles on his back. The blond blinked and pushed himself up, feeling incredibly unstable as Em helped him back to where he’d been sitting before, tugging his boxers back up for him in the process. He stared down at the floor for a moment, then slowly, drunkenly looked up to meet Em’s eyes. The older man studied him, a soft look in his eyes, then stood and wrapped him in a hug.</p>
<p>He allowed Em to press his face into his chest, and something inside him cracked, a sob breaking free like a dam bursting. Tears started to flow, soaking Em’s t-shirt, but the older man just pulled him closer while Colson sobbed uncontrollably, sounds muffled by his chest. Tremors wracked through him and that brick in his chest finally started to dissipate.</p>
<p>They stayed like that for several minutes, until Colson’s tears started to run out, and he slowly sank into that cloud again, Em’s warmth wrapped around him. He realized then that Em had been murmuring to him quietly, and little whispered ‘you did so good’s and ‘you’re ok,’s filtered in to his awareness. A huge sigh built and he let it out, and he finally lifted his head again.</p>
<p>Em loosened his hold on him and stepped back, rubbing the younger man’s arms up and down. “Hey, sweetheart, how are you?” he said softly, the now familiar endearment devastating in Colson’s ears. The blond wiped his face, embarrassed by the wet patch on Em’s shirt. </p>
<p>“Sorry…” he started to say, sniffling, but Em shook his head. </p>
<p>“Nope. How are you?” he corrected. Colson paused and huffed. </p>
<p>“I’m ok,” he said, a tremor jolting through him unexpectedly. Em rubbed his arms again until it died down, expressive eyes flickering over him. </p>
<p>“Good. Come here,” he said, stepping back and taking Colson’s hand. The blond frowned, but let Em tug him up to standing. He felt a little unsteady, like he’d lost all strength and balance, but Em just led him around the side of the bed and pulled the covers back. “Get under there, you’re gonna be cold in a second,” he told him. “I’m gonna grab something and I’ll be right back.”</p>
<p>Colson frowned, watching him go, then just sat on the edge instead, his mind completely blank. Em was back a minute or two later— or at least, it didn’t feel like he was gone long— with a bottle of water and a large bag of peanut m&amp;ms. Colson shivered a little as Em shut the door behind himself. </p>
<p>Em eyeballed the blond and smiled. “Thought I told you to get under the covers,” he chastised gently, making his way over and setting the m&amp;ms on the bed so he could unscrew the water bottle. He handed it to Colson, who’d just shrugged in response. </p>
<p>“Drink that,” he said, pointing at the water, and Colson reluctantly sipped it while Em inspected the damage to his legs. He realized then that he was really thirsty, and kicked it back again.</p>
<p>“You’re incredible,” Em said, running his fingers lightly over a dark red welt on his inner thigh. </p>
<p>Colson just smiled, still feeling floaty and blank. </p>
<p>“And non-verbal,” Em teased. “How fucking cute are you? Get your ass in my bed,” he said, laughing. “I wasn’t even slightly kidding when I told you I planned to cuddle your shy ass tonight.”</p>
<p>The blond huffed again and opened his mouth to respond, but a little wave of euphoria blanked his thoughts again and he just giggled. Em watched him with a genuine little smile, and made a stack of pillows behind him. “Now, Colson,” he ordered, and the blond obeyed, still giggling, sliding under the covers and leaning back. He sighed and let his eyes slip shut for a second. </p>
<p>“I feel high again,” he finally said, his voice a little scratchy. He wondered if he’d been screaming. He had no idea. </p>
<p>“Oh, I know,” Em said, sliding into the bed next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Me too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments, as always, are my favorite fucking thing. Can't get enough of them, seriously. I love you guys. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ya'll, I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. School was kicking my ass, and all my creativity was dried up under mountains of calculus homework.</p><p>Anyway, this chapter isn't majorly long. Just some introspection that Colson claims ain't his thing (liar), and more of Em being an aftercare king. I wanted to get to a lot more, but I think if I don't put something on here, people will think I've abandoned it. I haven't. Promise. More coming during the winter break, fingers crossed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With Em’s arm around him, Colson found himself holding his breath a little. His brain was a fuzzy mess, his ass and thighs were sore and his eyes felt puffy from crying, but the pull he felt towards Em was molasses thick.</p><p>They weren’t quite cuddling, not yet anyway… Em had brought his phone with him and the bag of m&amp;ms, and was getting situated at the type of leisurely pace that seems to plague older people and get worse with age. He absently rubbed a hand up and down Colson’s arm while he scrolled through music on his phone, and looked up long enough to move the bag from his side of the bed to Colson’s lap. Plopping it down in a pointed invitation, he went back to presumably finding something to vibe to while Colson reevaluated his life choices for the nth time in the past couple days. Watching his idol scroll through what looked like an eclectic collection, Colson chewed his lip and started fiddling with the zipper on the bag of m&amp;ms. </p><p>Inexplicably, the situation struck him as tragic and he started giggling again with his voice like wet cotton balls in his throat, drawing Em’s almond shaped gaze. The man who had just spanked him watched him a moment with a little smile. </p><p>“You’re toast, huh?” he noted, his hand on Colson’s arm finding it’s way up to rub gently at the nape of his neck before he could respond. Fingertips massaging at his sore muscles derailed his thoughts, and he found himself just sighing and studying the inside of his eyelids, trying not to moan. </p><p>Em continued his little one handed massage, his fingertips scratching in little circles as they made their way up to the base of his skull. Music started playing on low from a sound system somewhere nearby as Em found the track he wanted, and Colson emerged from that blissful little moment as if from a sea of jello, to find Em had set his phone on his thigh and was watching him again.</p><p>“Uh huh,” Em answered his own question. “Extra done. I know I keep saying it, but you’re fucking cute when you run out of smart ass shit to say.”</p><p>Under that slightly amused gaze, Colson felt kinda like a big, lanky kid, maybe. Em gave him a playful smile, and it was as though Colson was 4-feet tall, not at all on equal footing with man next to him.</p><p><i>I just got spanked, bare-assed, by the greatest rapper of all time,</i> his brain offered up in an attempt to freak him out. It didn’t really work, though. Chewing his lower lip again, he considered the small gap of space between them and tried to resist the urge to sink across that gap and nuzzle back into Em’s t-shirt where he’d been not so long ago. He was still reeling from how intense it had all been, and for some reason he couldn’t articulate, he wanted nothing more than to be back between Em’s legs like he’d been yesterday with fingers petting through his hair.</p><p>He thought of how effortlessly he’d given in the day before. He was almost jealous of his past self, in that moment. And words? Actually opening his mouth to see if it was ok or not? That seemed impossible.</p><p>How long had it been, anyway, since he’d stopped crying? 5 minutes? 10? It didn’t matter. His blank, almost meditative headspace only seemed to amplify as the somewhat spooky instrumental Em turned on did it’s thing to his brain waves. Toast, Em had said. Yeah, he was fucking toast.</p><p>He didn’t need to ask, it turned out. Em saw where his eyes went, and he beckoned with an easy nod and a little tug on the base of his neck, and then Colson was wiggling across the gap with his heart hammering, scooting down to offset his height some more, then pressing his cheek into Em’s t-shirt. It was still damp from him crying into it, and that realization paired with the now ever-present throbbing in his thighs kicked up something raw in him. He took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. So much for keeping it together this time… </p><p>“Guess I should have changed my shirt,” Em said, “do you want me to? That probably feels…” Colson shook his head before Em could finish that thought, not trusting himself to talk just then, and felt the older man chuckle quietly. “Okay. I’ll just shut up,” he said and raised a hand to pet his hair. As soon as Em’s fingers tangled there, it slammed Colson back into that place in his head again, and he sank into it for a few minutes. Let himself drift.</p><p>It all ….just seemed so pathetic, how he’d ended up here. Not just the events of the past 48 hours, but the whole fucking thing. He’d really thought, for a minute, that if he kept saying Em’s name… if he ignited some bullshit feud then what? Em would see him? Recognize him and acknowledge him? Well that wasn’t quite how it had gone down, but here he was anyway, and he felt …<i>guilty</i> about it. He’d created this whole mess of a situation because he <i>was</i> a mess, and somehow Em didn’t hate him for it; instead he was petting his fucking hair.</p><p>And frankly, he’d just been a massive fucking child about this whole thing, he realized. Capitalizing on a rare weak moment of Em’s like a clout chasing bitch. As much as it had stung to have Em call him out for trying to get his attention, he knew he was right. How could he even deny it to himself anymore, especially right now?</p><p>Getting his bare ass spanked was almost poetic, at this point. The icing on the cake that was Colson’s self-orchestrated downfall. The weirdest thing about it, Colson mused, was that getting spanked somehow made him feel better about the whole thing. Like the slate had been wiped clean.</p><p>“You were right,” he said quietly. Em chose that exact moment to yawn, and he came out of it with a ‘huh?’ tacked on at the end.</p><p>“Say something?” he asked, once the yawn had worked it’s way out of him. </p><p>“You were right,” Colson repeated.</p><p>“Right about what?” Em asked, and he realized he had to answer that. </p><p>He didn’t, immediately. Instead he stared down at his legs, hidden from view somewhat by the covers Em had insisted he crawl under. For that reason he couldn’t see the bruises and marks he knew were there, throbbing away pleasantly, so he just stared at the gap he’d left between their lower halves and the forgotten bag of m&amp;m’s wedged there. He shifted his muscles when the throbbing faded a little, kicking it back up again.</p><p>“Everything I guess,” he mumbled. He shifted again, restless, and bit his lip. When he moved, the marks on his legs lit up like Christmas, but were numbed quickly by the flood of endorphins clouding his brain.</p><p>Em pressed his nose into Colson’s hair, puffing hot air along his scalp. “You’re gonna need to be more specific,” he said, “I’m never right about <i>everything.</i>”  His chest shook a little in silent laughter. “You’re squirming a lot,” he told him, a smile in his tone. </p><p>Colson stilled. He’d noticed, but it hadn’t really clicked in his self-awareness until Em pointed it out. “Yeah… sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be. Legs ok?” he asked. Straight to the heart of the matter, as usual, but Colson didn’t quite know how to respond.</p><p>Truth was, he had always kinda liked the feeling of aggravating a bruise, be it from a fight or something reckless he’d done while drunk, though for the life of him he couldn’t explain it adequately. If he had to try, he’d say it was a sickeningly indulgent feeling. Almost primal, like savoring the metallic taste of your own blood after splitting a lip, or picking a scab off before it’s done healing underneath.</p><p>So much in the same way he enjoyed those things, he also liked how these bruises felt, but there was also that decidedly <i>injured</i> feeling; one he knew would have him feeling emotionally vulnerable for days. The interesting thing about these ones was, because of their location, they had almost an exclusive nervy highway straight up to his dick and balls. Colson had no idea what the next couple of days would feel like, in that regard.</p><p>“Where they are… is gonna be weird,” he said finally, “but so far so good.”</p><p>“Don’t hate it?”</p><p>Colson just laughed and shook his head slightly.</p><p>“Knew you’d be into that shit,” Em said smugly. “Never really was my thing, though, except the uh, dishing it out part. Getting hurt just makes me angry.”</p><p>Colson wiggled a bit so he could see Em’s face. “Yeah? Don’t you box?”</p><p>Em looked down at him and nodded. “I do, but the getting punched part isn’t as much fun as landing them,” he told him. </p><p><i>I feel like a fucking girl,</i> Colson thought suddenly, despite having been there long enough to have thoroughly blurred those lines already. <i>I need to sit up.</i> </p><p>But holy fuck was it hard. Like what he imagined quicksand felt like in his cartoon-primed millennial brain. He placed a hand on Em’s chest and started to push himself up. Felt Em’s fingers still in his hair and then slide away, and he was oddly grateful that Em didn’t try to keep him there. He wasn’t sure he’d win that battle. “But you thought I’d like it?”</p><p>“Honestly?” Em said, eyeballing Colson as he turned a bit and crossed his legs under him. He didn’t comment on Colson trying to create some space between them. “You know, your dumb ass is always getting hurt? I watched uh…” he looked away and flicked his fingers in a snapping motion, “…some of those videos someone made of you on the road… forgot what they were called… Anyway, you were playing with fucking knives and shit, spinning those fucking things around, throwing yourself face first on the pavement. Always smiling after you get hurt too. You’re a reckless little shit.”</p><p>Unable to deny that statement in good faith, Colson shrugged. “Just living that punk rock life I guess,” he snarked with confidence he didn’t feel. He still felt half his full height and floaty. <i>Why did I get up again?</i></p><p>Just to make it worse, Em folded an arm behind his head as a cushion, which pulled his shirt taut against his shoulder and chest, and Colson swallowed dryly. “Something like that,” Em agreed with a smirk. “Guess it could have gone the other way and I’d have a black eye right now. So there’s that.”</p><p>Colson just snorted. He wasn’t trying to get into a punching match with someone who’d just held him down like a rag doll and spanked him until he cried. The reminder of that made his face feel hot. Em didn’t look that strong, but clearly looks were deceiving.</p><p>But it wasn’t just a matter of strength, was it? It wasn’t like Colson had never picked a fight with someone a hell of a lot stronger than him, even when he’d known he’d lose, because like Em had correctly claimed, he was fucking reckless. There were other factors at play though.</p><p>It had felt too good, plain and simple. Not just the physical sensations, but the attention. To have someone focused on him like that, taking the time to break him down… Case in point, Em’s blue eyes stared back at him, and Colson could acknowledge that he’d been done for since the night Em had cornered him after his show. Fight him? It had taken everything in his power not to cum in his pants. Nah, Em’s being stronger than him had very little to do with it.</p><p>He knew what Em was getting at here though: trying to give him a foot to stand on again, flimsy as it was. Some way of saying ‘yeah I’m a psycho and that was all jokes’ to preserve his delicate, macho sensibilities. Em <i>knew</i> how fucking humiliating this had been for him, but he also knew how much he’d liked it, and frankly, Colson didn’t know how to handle that. He looked around for the bag of m&amp;ms just to have something to do with his hands, and zipped it open. He could say something like ‘yeah I almost socked you out, old man,’ or something else equally untrue. Em giving him an out was actually pretty generous, all things considered. </p><p><i>Nah, Fuck that.</i> Colson could own it.  After a moment he said: “Nope, cus I consented to that shit.”</p><p>Em’s gaze was steady as he acknowledged Colson handing his freebee excuse back to him, and he replied simply with, “I know, baby.” </p><p>The way ‘baby’ just rolled off his tongue… </p><p>Colson popped an m&amp;m in his mouth and offered the bag to Em, who shook his head. He shrugged and ate a few more, looking around. The spooky beat had ended an a new instrumental was playing.</p><p>“These beats are pretty hard,” he said, latching on to a change of subject. </p><p>Em’s face lit up a little, and he glanced at his phone a second. “Seriously, though. These are Royce’s.”</p><p>Colson paused mid-chew, and frowned. “He makes beats?”</p><p>“Actually yeah. Hasn’t been doing it all that long either. Good, right?”</p><p>Colson nodded and ate another candy, then his eyes widened as his imagination took over. “Yo, so he sent these to you so…? Like are you making another album or something?”</p><p>A little smile tugged at Em’s lips, and Colson flushed. “Why? Thought I ain’t put anything good out since Recovery?” Em asked, eyes dancing.</p><p>Caught, Colson could only roll his eyes, which made Em laugh. “Shut up,” Colson said, smiling despite himself, then threw an m&amp;m at him and watched it bounce off Em’s shoulder. The older man eyeballed the offending candy as it rolled off into his bed somewhere.</p><p>“If you get melted chocolate all over my sheets, I’m spanking you again,” he threatened, shaking his head a little.</p><p>Colson’s heart rate picked up a little. He met Em’s eyes with his lip trapped between his teeth, picked up another candy, and threw that one too. It hit Em in the collar bone this time and he winced. </p><p>“Ow! Oh you think I’m kidding?”</p><p>The blond shrugged and threw another one. It bonked Em on the forehead, but this time Em just smirked and shook his head. “You’re the one who gave me these. Talk about a set up,” Colson accused, picking up another one and rolling it between his fingers before popping it in his mouth. Suddenly nothing seemed like a better use of his time than throwing m&amp;ms at Eminem. “You’re corny as fuck, by the way. M&amp;ms dude? Really?”</p><p>Em’s eyebrows furrowed as another candy bounced off his chest and he stared blankly at the bag in Colson’s hands until it hit him. “Oh shit,” a short surprised laugh. “I didn’t even notice.”</p><p>“Unreal. You’re like a walking parody of yourself.” He threw another one, and it hit the headboard. “Damn, I missed.” He threw another one to make up for it, but that one missed too. </p><p>“Well technically I’m sitting down,” Em commented mildly, grabbing the last m&amp;m off his bed and eating it. “And your aim sucks.”</p><p>Colson’s revenge was another m&amp;m to the forehead, and the way Em blinked as it bounced into his lap was everything. A few seconds passed, and Colson burst out laughing. Em reached over and tore the bag out of his hands. “Ay! I was eating those.” </p><p>“Bitch, half of them ended up in my bed,” Em said incredulously. </p><p>“Not before they hit your stupid face.”</p><p>Colson sucked his lower lip into his mouth and tried not to grin. He was definitely feeling more like himself now, and the murderous look on Em’s face was giving him life. </p><p>He didn’t see it coming, what happened next. Em set the bag down and sat up, a resigned look on his face. Locked eyes with the snickering blond. </p><p>Then he leaned across the gap, thumbed Colson’s lip out from between his teeth, and kissed him.</p><p>Colson’s eyes flew wide. It was just a soft press of lips, a little drag against his chapped skin, and then Em was pulling back. For a moment, they just stared at each other.</p><p>“What?” Em asked. “It was either that or spank you again, and I ain’t that much of a dick.” He smiled, swayed back and then got up and stretched, leaving a shell-shocked Colson in the middle of his bed. “Called my bluff. Wanna go get in the hot tub? It’ll feel good after all that, I think.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I KNOW THIS IS FAST. But it's very short. The last chapter just felt unfinished, and I woke up in the middle of the night thinking: Marshall's perspective has been grossly underrepresented here. </p>
<p>This shit belongs with the last chapter. Bigger update coming after finals are over. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’d wanted Colson to get out of his own head, and he supposed in that regard he’d only sort of succeeded. Going forward without a plan rarely yielded particularly precise results though.</p>
<p>Marshall wasn’t sure when he’d become so invested, but something about the messy young man who called himself Machine Gun Kelly made him feel frustrated and elated all at once. It had taken him a little time to understand that his reaction to the kid hadn’t been even slightly rational; a knee-jerk emotional response to meeting someone so much like himself he had to do a double take. In that way, Marshall thought maybe he kind of knew him already, though they were technically strangers.</p>
<p>Colson was wild, reckless, and painfully sensitive, even if he didn’t see it himself. He didn’t take care of himself or have any sense of self-preservation, and Marshall was drawn to all that chaos like a siren song. It also made him want to bloody his face against the nearest wall in frustration.</p>
<p>Calling the younger man messy was a little unfair of him though. Not that it was an inaccurate description, but it failed to encompass the full picture here. A pot shouldn’t call a kettle black, or whatever. Marshall had always hated that metaphor, and having it pop into his head in this instance just made him want to roll his eyes at himself for eternity.</p>
<p>This evening, especially the events of the past hour, had only cemented this feeling that had started to take shape early in the week. No, earlier this year, really. Months of digesting just about every piece of MGK related media he could get his hands on, telling himself it was diss-track ‘research.’ Only to come face to face once it was all over and realize belatedly, damage already done: <i>I just have a fucking crush on him.</i> Had he had even the slightest iota of self-awareness, maybe he could have saved them both a little emotional turmoil. Not that Colson hadn’t played a part in stoking the fire, but Marshall was almost twice his age and supposedly that meant he ought to be the mature one. Sometimes separating Marshall from Shady was difficult though.</p>
<p>Instead of voicing it, maybe sharing some of his missteps so they could laugh about it, he’d simply let his baser instincts rule, and the remarkable thing was that Colson had let him. Given in to Marshall’s twisted little games when maybe a more stable human being would have walked away from the start; but here he was anyway, curled up against his chest, gripping the hem of his t-shirt like he could fly apart any second, and Marshall supposed he maybe could have.</p>
<p>It stirred up something almost parental in him, a powerful urge to murmur a string of absolute nonsense affirmations, tell him how good he was, but he’d done enough of that earlier and any more of that would be bordering on weird. Instead, he continued to card fingers through his hair while the blond pressed his cheek into the damp fabric he’d sobbed into a few minutes earlier, a direct result of what Marshall had to say was a very desperately needed spanking. That shit could be cathartic, he knew, even if one wasn’t a beautiful fucking <i>perfect</i> masochist like the puffy-eyed blond he was petting. The way Colson had urged him to keep going until he cracked, tumbling into subspace like he belonged there, had been something to fucking behold. In so, so many ways, Marshall was seriously fucked.</p>
<p>A fit of clinginess made him nearly tug Colson back into place when the blond had finally decided he didn’t want to cuddle him anymore, and he’d very nearly done so until he remembered what had made him feel that way in the first place. So he’d let him get up and create a chasm of space between them. Struck up some conversation, when what he really wanted to do was flip the younger man onto his stomach and run his tongue over every single welt and bruise he’d put between his legs, make him cum maybe. Force him to remember him later. But Colson was more sensitive than he’d originally thought, and this was all new to him, and Marshall had to take a breath and remind himself that Colson was unlikely to forget about tonight until the bruises faded anyway. Unlikely to forget <i>him</i> that easily, period. Not when this whole thing started because the kid had been his spurned fan from the jump. </p>
<p>But that was part of the problem too: in his quest to be as bitter as possible for absolutely no reason, he’d probably seriously hurt the younger man with his stupid, weaponized tongue.</p>
<p>He hated it sometimes, but he didn’t know how to be anything else.</p>
<p>It was remarkable, or perhaps just a little bit unhealthy, that Colson had agreed to spend time with him tonight. Marshall wasn’t complaining though. Selfishly, he simply aspired to do a little better from this point on.</p>
<p>So small talk, and gentle teasing, rather than acting on the filthy things that kept popping into his head as he watched Colson shyly flirt with him, throw candy at him and bite his extremely edible-looking lower lip.</p>
<p>Empty threats and a soft kiss that was absolutely not enough; that didn’t even scratch the surface of how badly Marshall wanted to devour him in that moment. </p>
<p>“Wanna go get in the hot tub? It’ll feel good after all that, I think.”</p>
<p>Wide eyes, still red from crying or exhaustion, or both, blinked at him from the center of his bed. Colson looked so young to him just then, staring at him, processing. Probably trying to decide if his pride could handle what was growing between them or not. Marshall wouldn’t blame him if it couldn’t, but he hoped…</p>
<p>“Uhm… yeah,” he said finally, his voice coming out funny. He cleared his throat, eyes dipping to Marshall’s lips and then away. “Let’s do that.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ya'll... lol. I know this story is an non-cohesive shit show. Thanks for all the love btw. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm the worst at updating, so hopefully ya'll still want this story at all. Otherwise, here's another chapter I'll post into the void. </p><p>Those of you who are still reading, thanks for the nagging at me to write this thing. It ain't over yet.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hot tub? Sure. Colson could handle that. </p><p>There were things that were less easy to roll with: say, acknowledging the source of the warm sensations that spread out from his chest and filled him to the brim. He couldn’t say for sure how he felt about Em’s lips against his own, entirely too soft and barely there for just a fraction of a moment. He couldn’t breathe, so how was he expected to <i>think?</i></p><p>Well, he wasn’t going to worry about that right now. Not with his brain going fuzzy all over again.</p><p>Em had already moved on from the moment though, and was gathering up his things from their little game, bending over to grab the duffle bag from the floor. He said something else, but Colson wasn’t listening and only vaguely registered that he was talking. </p><p>Colson searched for something to do with himself, and came up empty-handed, his limbs like lead when he willed them to move. Frowning, he looked down at himself, cross-legged, still only in boxers and covered in bruises.</p><p>New crisis identified, a very rumpled and freshly spanked Colson looked at the man who’d spanked him with a renewed sense of purpose.</p><p>“I don’t have a swimsuit,” he said. “And I’m stuck.”</p><p>Em, duffle bag in hand, glanced over at him and furrowed his eyebrows. He eyed him up and down and cocked his head to the side.</p><p>“A swimsuit? You mean you <i>aren’t</i> going in naked?” Em asked him. “Cus I’m going in naked.”</p><p>Colson stared at him for nearly a whole minute while he processed that, not firing on all cylinders or even half of them “…Seriously?” he finally said.</p><p>The older man smiled and shook his head. “No. Just said you could borrow one, ya goof, pay attention.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“What do you mean, you’re ‘stuck?’”</p><p>Instead of answering, the wave of fuzziness that had descended on him and Em’s clear bemusement sent him into another giggling fit, and he watched Em’s eyebrows go up comically. A sympathetic chuckle, short and distinctly Slim Shady bubbled out of him as he stood there in confusion and watched a giggly Colson collapse onto his bed and roll around.</p><p>It died down after a moment and as he lay there, some fingers tangled gently into his hair and then Em was standing over him, his almond-shaped eyes dancing.</p><p>“Don’t go anywhere then,” he said, then leaned down and kissed him again. This time, he lingered just a moment longer, the friction of their lips sending him tumbling back into that headspace for the nth time that night. When Em finally pulled away, Colson’s giggles were gone.</p><p>This time, maybe, Colson kinda did know how he felt about it, so he grabbed Em’s shirt and tugged his smirking idol back down for one more… just to be sure.</p><p>———</p><p>God, the hot tub had been an awesome idea. Em literally had to drag his ass downstairs, hand-in-hand, but they got there eventually. And it didn’t suck. </p><p>Except for the part where he forgot to get in slowly as to not shock himself when the change in temperature hit his fucking bruised-up legs. He supposed the upside to it was that he squealed like a girl and Em laughed at him, which wasn’t an upside at all, but it <i>was</i> funny. </p><p>What was <i>awesome</i> though, was that he got time to think, and talk to Eminem without being made to feel 4 feet tall and mushy in the process. With neither of them particularly interested in digging up more wounds tonight, both of them emotionally maxed out and ready to actually relax, they defaulted to taking turns playing songs over the bluetooth for one another while they soaked. To Colson’s immense irritation, he could hardly find a single song or artist Em hadn’t already heard within their shared genre —even new stuff— and he admitted (imagined) defeat with a grumbled admonition of ‘nerd’ that Em took even more irritatingly to be a compliment. </p><p>But they did discuss music at length, and in that regard, Colson had to pinch himself. Never in a million years had he thought he’d get to talk shop with his idol, but they did just that, and it was fucking amazing. They probably stayed in the hot tub a little too long because Colson couldn’t stop asking him questions, especially as it became clear that Em was content to keep answering them. He could almost imagine they were peers, because Em sorta treated him like one.</p><p>If it sucked a little, knowing that Em didn’t actually see him that way, or that he deliberately avoided talking about his own music to avoid discomfort or rejection, he kept that sentiment very much to himself. Maybe it was the toll this tour had taken on him, or the deliberate dissonance it took to put their beef behind them, but honestly Colson was just fucking over it for now. He was exhausted, and slowly but surely coming to grips with the fact that he needed to take a long, hard look at himself when he got home to LA in a couple days.</p><p>Finally, they emerged, overheated, yawning and probably a little prune-y. It was around then that the blond decided to call it a night, sure he’d already stayed too long. Em on the other hand, actually seemed a little disappointed. He agreed though, then insisted that Colson borrow a pair of sweats to go back to the hotel in. </p><p>When asked why, Em stepped right up to him and pressed directly into his worst bruise on his left leg, causing him to hiss. Apparently all the hot water had inflamed them a bit. “That’s why,” he explained, winking at a red-faced Colson. “You wanna pull your jeans on over those right now or what?”</p><p>The touch had been possessive, his eyes just a little mean, and true to form Colson promptly did whatever the fuck Em asked. </p><p>So, donning some relic-of-the-early-2000’s sweats —the only thing Em’s short ass owned that were long enough to fit him to the ankles, due to the oversized style— he climbed gingerly into the passenger seat of Em’s car, arguing sleepily that he ought to drive this time.</p><p>Em just laughed at him, his hand finding his thigh again like it had earlier. It was too warm, the inflammation beneath the fabric meeting Em’s warmth from his hand, and Colson spent the entire drive with that spot at the center of his awareness, only sort-of listening as Em rambled happily about whatever he was playing on the stereo. If he was a little quiet, Em certainly didn’t seem to mind it.</p><p>It wasn’t until he was drifting off to sleep, the first night in weeks where his blood wasn’t flooded with stimulants that it dawned on him, and he smiled into his pillow: he was leaving town tomorrow, and Em wouldn’t be getting these sweatpants back. He hadn’t even told him he was leaving either, but he was asleep before he could finish the thought to text him.</p><p>It didn’t matter anyway.</p><p>——————</p><p>Trudging up to the tour bus in the morning with an ice coffee in hand, Colson kinda wished he’d gone for the hot option instead. The temperature, which had begun dropping the past couple nights, had decided to keep on doing it’s ugly thing into the morning this time, and Colson’s fingers were already a little on the numb side. Still, it was tolerable, and he made it on to the heated bus without losing said fingers, so… small victories.</p><p>The whole crew wasn’t necessarily taking the bus back: Ash had to fly out ahead of them the night before, but Rook and Baze were already on the bus looking rough. Cleveland was only the first leg of Colson’s journey though. He would be staying with Rook tonight, then grabbing Casie in the morning and hopping a plane to LA.</p><p>He slid onto one of the couches, sipping from his straw. He made sure to move slowly as not to aggravate the thoroughly developed bruises beneath his clothes as he’d done a dozen or so times since he woke up. Even then, he winced a little as he sat down. For whatever reason, he hadn’t changed out of Em’s sweatpants since last night. He told himself it was because they were comfortable, and not because it was what Em deemed appropriate for him to wear over fresh bruises. Looking around at his band, he chirped, “Ya’ll look like hot garbage.”</p><p>Baze chuckled darkly. “Yep.”</p><p>“Eat me,” Rook said. His complexion was a little green, and Colson took a moment to be grateful he hadn’t gone out with them last night.</p><p>“No thanks,” he said, grinning. The drummer sat there for a moment, pale, then made his way to the back of the bus, and probably the bathroom. Colson, who felt pretty good, grimaced as he followed him with his eyes, sure he knew what sort of morning the shorter man was having. He’d had more than a fair share himself.</p><p>Slim arrived not long after, and soon they were on the road. Colson finished his ice coffee pretty quickly now that he was warm again, then laid down on the couch and let the road sounds lull him to sleep a little. He drifted in and out of a light doze, mind blissfully empty for at least a little while. It didn’t last long though, and after a few miles the sun started blasting through his window.</p><p>He groaned and sat up again, looking around and ruffling his hair. The mood on the bus was sleepy, and everyone was doing their own thing. Slim was passed out and snoring.</p><p>“Anyone think to get food?” he said. Baze mumbled something about donuts from behind his laptop, and Colson made a face. “How you guys can eat like that every day…” he complained to a reluctant shrug of agreement, then got up and started rummaging around through cabinets. After a few minutes of searching among the junk food they kept on hand, he managed to find a box of chocolate chip cliff bars, which he scrunched his nose at distastefully.</p><p>Tearing one open, he slumped back into his couch, wincing as he jostled his bruises, and stared at the ceiling while he munched on the thing. He’d kill for like… eggs, or something. He started scrolling social media, and after checking his mentions nearly choked on the bite he was chewing.</p><p>Rook, who’d remerged from the bathroom at some point —and looked a bit less green— peeked over at him. “Hmm?”</p><p>Colson didn’t answer, already clicking the article that was circulating on twitter, several retweets already and plenty of engagement. Titled with a clickbait headline that was as unimaginative as it was irritating: ‘MGK loses cool when asked about Eminem.’</p><p>“<i>Of course</i> that’s what she wrote about,” he fumed quietly, then started reading the article even though he knew it was just going to piss him off. </p><p>He wasn’t wrong. He even hated the <i>picture</i> she used.</p><p>Nixing any credible journalistic acumen she may have had at her disposal, the redheaded bitch from yesterday had written up a snappy little slander-piece that took every single one of his quotes out of context, with a riveting account of how Colson had ‘stormed off’ after a ‘difficult Eminem question.’ The ‘storming off’ in question was a complete fiction, and it set his teeth on edge. </p><p>“You alright?” Rook asked. He was sitting across from him and apparently was alerted to the blond’s distress by the smoke coming out of his ears. Colson looked up and shook his head.</p><p>“Nope,” he turned his phone to show Rook the screen, and the drummer’s eyebrows went up as he read the title. “My ‘interview’ yesterday,” he gritted out. “With an honorable mention about the EP. At the bottom.” </p><p>The EP which, incidentally, had been the whole premise behind the interview in the first place. Colson wanted to break something, and narrowly held himself in check from chucking his phone across the bus.</p><p>“Shit, I remember.” Rook made a face, and Colson turned the screen back to himself to start reading the comments below. That just further soured his mood. “You really shouldn’t read that stuff.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes, fully aware that he shouldn’t. “Yep well too fucking late. Kinda hard when they blast my timeline with it.” Finally fed up, he locked his screen and tossed it a little too aggressively onto the seat next to him to it bounced to the floor. He stared at it but made no move to pick it up. “I was in a good mood too.”</p><p>Rook looked like he wanted to say something, but he thought better of it.</p><p>“What?” Colson asked, not about to be tip-toed around. The drummer exhaled and made a face. </p><p>“Nothin…” Then, “You caught that dude like herpes.”</p><p>He felt his whole face go flat. “Wow. That’s really helpful Rook, thanks.”</p><p>The drummer shrugged. “Sorry man you asked. Just mean he’s irritating and doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. But you already knew that when you dissed him.”</p><p>Colson frowned and shook his head, slumping into the couch feeling sour. After a moment: “Ain’t even really him though, it’s these fucking media people.”</p><p>Rook, who looked a little sheepish now, eyeballed him. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah like…” <i>Stop talking</i>, “he even dropped it, said what he thought he needed to say and moved on, so I’m just over them bringing it up all the time.”</p><p>The drummer gave him a funny look. “He did? What, you talk to him or something?”</p><p>Colson froze, realizing exactly what he’d said. It had only been a little over a month since Killshot, and publicly, Em hadn’t said a word since. Especially not about him. “Nah just…” he trailed off, at a loss on how to fix that slip up. His drummer frowned, clearly aware he was missing something.</p><p>“I mean, yeah, kinda?” he winced.</p><p>Rook’s eyes went super wide and his mouth hung open.</p><p><i>Nice one. </i>He genuinely could not keep a secret to save his life.</p><p>“Whaaaaat? <i>When</i>? Man that’s <i>kind of</i> some fucking <i>news,</i> though?” </p><p>Colson glanced around self-consciously, suddenly hyper aware of the volume of their conversation. Baze had put on headphones and was bobbing his head, clicking away on his computer and Slim was still dead to the world, sleeping off a hangover. “Voice down dude,” he said to Rook, who looked like he was about to lose his composure.</p><p>Rook’s eyes followed Colson’s glance, and he snapped his mouth shut. “Oh,” he said, perplexed. They didn’t typically keep big secrets from each other. “Alright…?”</p><p>“I’m just…” Colson’s face burned, and it sucked. “You know… not ready for it to be public knowledge.”</p><p>He winced: there was no good way to interpret that, and Rook met his eyes intently. “What <i>happened</i>?” he said quietly, glancing over at Baze again.</p><p>“Nothing <i>happened</i>,” Colson lied, his voice ticking up. He shifted, feeling his thighs twinge. God, he was still wearing his pants too. “It just… he came to our show earlier this week, and we talked a bit. Not long,” he added quickly, cutting off the question of the tip of Rook’s tongue. “Just… it’s over ok? We aren’t beefing anymore.”</p><p>The drummer blinked at him, clearly bursting with questions. “Why wouldn’t you want us to know that? What did you say to each other? Did— did you fight him?” his voice dropped conspiratorially low as he said it, which was almost funny, except Colson wasn’t finding any of this funny. It was embarrassing.</p><p>Colson gave him a flat look. “Rook. Do I look like I got in a fight?”</p><p>“Well no but…”</p><p>He exhaled, pinching himself between the eyes. “Nah we just talked and… I think we’re actually good now. But please keep this to yourself?”</p><p>“You’re ‘good’. With Eminem. Okay,” Rook sat back, looking like he needed to digest that. He glanced out the window and rolled his lower lip between his teeth, frowning. “That’s a good thing then right?” he turned and the drummer actually looked a little hopeful. “Still don’t see why this is a… a secret, but alright. You really ain’t gonna tell me what you guys said?”</p><p>Baze chose that moment to tug his headphones off. “Yo yeah screw donuts, lets stop at a diner.” He looked at the two of them, noticing the tense body language. “I miss something?”</p><p>Colson winced, and shot Rook a look, silently asking him to play along. “Nope, just fucking around. I’m <i>so</i> down for diner food right now.”</p><p>Luckily, Rook was a solid friend. He took one look at Colson’s face and nodded. “Could do with some hash-browns,” he agreed. Baze grinned.</p><p>“Bet you could. Need to put some grease in the tank.” With that, he stood and went to the front to tell the driver.</p><p>Rook made a face after him, the reminder of his distressed stomach clearly unwelcome. </p><p>As soon as they were alone again though, the drummer gave him a pointed look that said, quite clearly: ‘you are soooo telling me later.’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Heh. Drop a comment if you're still here &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Needed to drop this real fast so I can focus on my exams. Fuck.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The plan had never been to tell people. ’The plan,’ actually, didn’t fucking exist.</p>
<p>There was no plan because Colson wasn’t a planner and apparently, he couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. As such, he now had approximately the duration of the bus ride back to Cleveland to find some way to explain things to Rook —or get out of it, though the way the shorter man kept giving him meaningful looks over breakfast, he didn’t see that outcome happening.</p>
<p>It took him until their coffee was on the table to decide he was taking a vow of silence until further notice, in an attempt to stop sticking his foot in his mouth.</p>
<p>Okay, not really. He didn’t even make it through breakfast without talking. That shit was actually impossible, especially when he was nervous. He hardly ate a thing; instead acted a fool and flirted with their waitress, made a huge tower of creamer packets from nearby tables, then pretended to be Godzilla and knocked it down repeatedly. He was of course, fully aware of Rook’s eyes on him and wanted to pretend that he was generally unbothered by their conversation earlier, but he was tired and bruised and feeling fake as hell. </p>
<p>It backfired completely, too. Maybe the rest of the guys weren’t on alert for it, but his antics had Rook squinting his eyes at him suspiciously on more than one occasion. Colson really wasn’t good at keeping secrets, especially not from someone who knew him as well as Rook did.</p>
<p>Back on the bus, and worn out from his acting up inside the diner, he slumped onto a couch with a bag of weed, fully intending to roll blunts and ignore everyone for a little while. He plugged some headphones into his laptop and got to work, angsty pop-punk blasting in his ears, and his emotional state just as off as he suspected it would be the day after letting Em beat him black and blue in such an intimate place. He felt… fuck, kinda needy actually; almost <i>did</i> want to talk to Rook about the whole thing just so he wouldn’t have this <i>pressure</i>, but his pride was sending ice cold fear through his veins. If he opened up to his friend about what went down this week —what <i>actually</i> went down— and Rook reacted badly, he wasn’t sure he could handle the rejection right now. </p>
<p>It made him feel weirdly guilty too, because Rook wasn’t the kind of friend who was judgmental and cruel, but the fear existed regardless. </p>
<p>It wasn’t just Rook though. He wished he could talk to Em too, but his fear wouldn’t let him. Colson really kinda missed it already, the way Em made him feel the past few days. It had felt safe, somehow, lowering his guard around him, but the thought of acting even slightly clingy made him feel like he couldn’t even pick up the phone and text him. What if it wasn’t welcome? If he was gonna tell him he left town, the time to do that was last night and now it was just weird. The more he brooded about it, the more insecure he felt, and the injured, achy feeling in his thighs didn’t help. It was times like this that he wished he had a girlfriend; cus no one thinks twice about wanting to cuddle up to their girlfriend, and he could really use some of that right now.</p>
<p>The ride back wasn’t a long one, just a few hours, and by early afternoon they were traveling through familiar areas and individually consolidating their things that were scattered around the bus. Colson had finished his rolling a while back, smoked an entire blunt by himself and then zoned out listening to music for the duration of the drive. Tugging his headphones off was like coming out of a trance, and he sat up feeling a little bit like a sad alien. </p>
<p>“Rook, lets get drunk,” he decided, because if he was gonna tell his friend anything about went down this weekend, he needed to be a little bit drunk first. The drummer looked up from his duffle bag and nodded.</p>
<p>“Why not?” he agreed sardonically. “My liver is still kinda young, I guess.”</p>
<p>“Incorrect,” Slim told him, laughing when Rook threw a water-bottle at him. </p>
<p>———-</p>
<p>Rook didn’t bother him about it when they got back to his place, surprisingly, at least not right away; and for that Colson was grateful, because he still had no idea what he was going to say to him. </p>
<p>They unloaded their things inside the threshold of his front door and left it in a heap for the time being while they assessed the food and booze situation, inevitably deciding to head down the street to the liquor store and grab some Thai food on the way. It wasn’t far, and they decided to just take the walk to get there, running into locals on the way and stopping to talk some.  It took maybe 45 minutes for them to get back, and by then Colson was just ready to sit down. He felt all kinds of drained, and the walking had drawn his attention to the injured feeling in his legs even more than the prolonged sitting had. Em had really done a number on him.</p>
<p>Despite that, he still had one or two things he needed to do before relaxing, the first being call his daughter and make sure she was packed for tomorrow. He felt <i>kinda</i> bad about pulling her out of school for a couple days to go spend time with him, but at the same time, he hadn’t seen her in like a month, and his clingy mood just made him miss her more.<br/>
Mumbling that he’d be back in a few minutes, he let himself out onto Rook’s patio with a fresh blunt tucked behind his ear and dug his phone out of his pocket. Then stared at the screen with a knot forming in his stomach. </p>
<p>Several texts from Em. </p>
<p>Since he’d used his laptop for music, he hadn’t actually looked at his phone since the twitter thing this morning except to find out if he’d busted the screen when he tossed it. Despite the fact that they’d been in almost constant contact for the past two days, he hadn’t really expected to hear from him today. Maybe it was imagined, and he was feeling extra insecure or something, but he’d felt super cut off from the older man since last night, like there was a severing of ties between them.</p>
<p>He wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was because it was Eminem of all people, and he felt… it was kinda pathetic actually, but he felt like once he left Em would lose interest. Of course, Em had no idea he was no longer in town, and he’d also been the one to initiate this whole thing in the first place, but Colson wasn’t thinking rationally today. He was too busy feeling like needy garbage. </p>
<p>Deciding that Em could wait until after he’d talked to his kid, he went to favorites and clicked her name before leaning over the railing. As it rang, he pulled the blunt out from behind his ear and lit it one handed, smiling when his daughter answered. Hearing her voice breathed life into him, every single time. </p>
<p>She was packed, she said, and excited to see him tomorrow. He stayed on the phone with her for a little while listening to her update him on her life this past month, long enough that Rook came looking for him and ducked back inside when he realized what he was doing. When he finally hung up, the blunt was gone and his mood was, for the most part, level.</p>
<p>Nothing like a conversation with your daughter to straighten out your perspective. He could handle this shit. Going back to his messages, he spotted the ones from Em again.</p>
<p>M: -Yikes I stayed up too late again. Call me when you can.-<br/>
M: -What you doing today? Wanna come to the studio with me for a few hours?-<br/>
M: -Recording over that beat I showed you.-</p>
<p>Well fuck. He could <i>not</i> handle this shit, actually, now that he thought about it. Colson’s mouth hung open stupidly as he reread it, high as fuck and unsure if he was comprehending it wrong.</p>
<p>Nope, he’d read it right. Eminem had just invited him to his studio to hang with him while he recorded music… over an hour ago, and in another city. </p>
<p>“Yo, I poured you a drink like 20 minutes ago. Ice already melted into it.”</p>
<p>Colson distractedly turned to the drummer standing in the doorway sipping his own drink and twirling a drumstick. “What? Oh, I’ll still drink it. Hold up.”</p>
<p>His fingers were already flying across the keypad. </p>
<p>-You fucking serious? I’m in Cleveland!-</p>
<p>“Still talkin to Casie?” Rook nosed.</p>
<p>Colson swore. “No. She’s good though.” He looked up, feeling a fresh kind of stress that only came from serious FOMO, and eyeballed his friend’s drink. “Where’s mine?” </p>
<p>“Inside, your highness. What do I look like, a bartender?” Rook took a sip from his own with a snarky shrug of the eyebrows.</p>
<p>“Well you fuckin’ poured it,” Colson complained, moving past him to go get it. The brunette followed him in, closing the door behind them. “I think you mean a waitress, dumbass.”</p>
<p>Rook wrinkled his nose thoughtfully and sat down behind his drum set, depositing his drink on the floor and snatching another drumstick. “Yeah, that’s the one. What do I look like, a waitress?” he repeated, and did a little ‘buh dum tsh,’ grinning. Colson huffed and went to where his drink was sat on the coffee table next to his carton of yellow curry that was probably cold now, and he finally made himself at home on the couch after taking a large swig.</p>
<p>
  <i>Ding</i>
</p>
<p>Colson unlocked his phone quickly, already knowing he’d see a text from Em there.</p>
<p>M: -What the fuck, really? Just like that-</p>
<p>“You on twitter again, making that constipated face?” Rook asked, starting to rhythmically tap away at his drums, though not so loud he had to shout. Colson didn’t respond though and quickly downed his entire drink before texting back.</p>
<p>-Forgot to tell you— Colson paused in the act of typing and frowned, not sure what he wanted to say here. He didn’t owe Em an explanation, did he? Would it seem clingy if he gave one?</p>
<p>-Tour was over. Which beat?-</p>
<p>He hit send and exhaled, feeling stressed and regretting that second blunt a little cus his brain felt foggy. That seemed neutral enough though. </p>
<p>“So… twitter?”</p>
<p>“No, not twitter. Texting,” he said, watching the noted lack of ellipses. Em wasn’t writing back. </p>
<p>“Oh, with Eminem?” Rook asked casually.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he said, then froze and looked up to a triumphantly grinning Rook, smugly twirling his stick around his fingers. “How did you know that?”</p>
<p>“I know <i>you</i>. So you didn’t just <i>talk,</i> you’re <i>talking</i>. Present tense,” the drummer said. “Very interesting.”</p>
<p>Colson flushed a little, caught. It was really only a matter of time, but it still ruffled his feathers a bit that he didn’t get to broach the subject himself. “Alright, Sherlock, fuck.”</p>
<p>Rook shrugged. “Wasn’t too hard to figure out. Why else would you be acting all fucking weird?” he picked his drink back up and took a sip, then geared up to play again, looking satisfied that he’d ‘figured it out.’</p>
<p>Except he really hadn’t, not really. At least, Colson really hoped not.</p>
<p>The sound of his ringtone startled him a little and he flinched, glancing down at his screen lighting up. </p>
<p>“Ooo that him?” Rook asked, and Colson gave him a withering look. “Gonna answer it?” </p>
<p>Seeing no real alternative, Colson stood and headed toward the balcony again, ignoring the look his friend was giving him. “Give me 10 minutes,” he said.</p>
<p>“Take your time, I can entertain myself.”</p>
<p>If his complexion was a little on the pink side by the time he closed the door behind him, he was at least glad he took it outside.</p>
<p>“Hey…” he said, raising the phone to his ear.</p>
<p>“Good time to talk?” was the flat reply. </p>
<p>Hearing Em’s voice again, which he’d kinda been itching for all day amidst his insecure brooding, at once sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine and filled him to the brim with anxiety. Em did not sound happy. He cleared his throat and sat in a chair. </p>
<p>“Uh, I mean not really. I have 10 minutes,” he lied. Rook wasn’t gonna hold him to that.</p>
<p>Em made a little discontented sound, and then there was some background noise, like he was moving from one room to another, and a door shut behind him.</p>
<p>“So you just left huh?” Em started, once he was apparently in a good place to talk. “You had literally all night to be like ‘hey, Marshall this is my last night in fucking town.’ Thanks for the heads up.”</p>
<p>Colson bristled a little at his tone, having put himself through some emotional acrobatics today already without Em getting pissed at him too. “Sorry I didn’t fucking <i>check in</i>,” he snapped. “Not sure why you think I owe you explanations for my actions, cus I fucking don’t.” </p>
<p>As soon as the words were out his mouth, he felt nauseous.</p>
<p>Today, he ached in places he’d never hurt before and he felt all kinds of defensive for no real reason, but copping an attitude with this man now just made him want to apologize. He didn’t know how to though, and just sat there with a hand roughly covering his mouth, listening to Em’s retort forming on an intake of breath.</p>
<p>It wasn’t what he expected.</p>
<p>“Damn, ok,” Em said, the irritation having bled mostly from his tone, replaced by concern. “Something happen between now and last night that we’re back to this shit again?”</p>
<p>Colson lowered his hand from his face and stared off into space, actually at a loss for words.</p>
<p>“You gonna make me talk to myself now or what?” Em prompted.</p>
<p>“How was I supposed to know you cared if I was still around?” he blurted after a tense little stretch of silence. “I didn’t wanna fuckin… bother you with unnecessary information!”</p>
<p>“Bother me?” the older man repeated. “You really just say that?”</p>
<p>It was his inflection in his words, the pitch at which he said them. The clear display of bewildered, offense-absolutely-taken energy that he managed to portray in just those few words, but Colson instantly felt like sitting down all over again, despite the fact that he was already sitting. He stared sightlessly at the floor.</p>
<p>It was like… somewhere between last night and this morning, he’d forgotten what Em was actually <i>like</i>, and he couldn’t figure out when that was.</p>
<p>“Cus… I’m just… never mind…” he said, deflating already. “Forget I said it.” But Em wasn’t having it. A little sound of disbelief traveled through the phone.</p>
<p>“Uh, no, you wanna talk about <i>bothering me?</i>. It <i>bothers me</i> that I can’t put my eyeballs on you today to make sure you’re ok, and I didn’t even know I wouldn’t get the chance cus you didn’t <i>tell me</i>. You forget what we did last night, or something? <i>Unnecessary</i>, my ass.”</p>
<p>Em wasn’t yelling exactly, just talking very emphatically, but the blond was somewhat shook. He cleared his throat. “I’m a grown ass man right? You don’t owe me anything… ”</p>
<p>Em made a frustrated, sad sound. “Fuck, Colson. Like you think that I was just done after that? Gonna just beat on you and then not even follow up the next day? At best that’s called abuse. Who the fuck you been hanging around that you think thats ok?” He paused. “Or is it just me that you think is that much of a piece of shit?”</p>
<p>Colson bit his lip, slumping down into the chair. The way Em had just destroyed the insecure reasonings that had been predominating his thoughts all day in one fell swoop… tugging them out by their toxic little roots.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” he said simply, not sure what else to say. All that time spent worried about seeming too clingy, to eventually deciding that Em was probably done with him anyway, and here he was, pissed that he couldn’t check in face-to-face. No, not just pissed. Hurt. Genuinely upset at the suggestion that he may not want to know the status of Colson’s wellbeing. </p>
<p>And that was crazy to him. People didn’t get so invested like that in other people, especially this quickly. At least not with him.</p>
<p>Em had paused at the simple apology, then took a breath, audibly calming himself down. It made Colson smile for some reason, eyes glued to the floor of the patio between his feet. He felt… fuzzy… and high, and warm, all the fight drained out of him. Parental-mode Em was something else.</p>
<p>“So <i>are</i> you ok? Cus that little outburst just now says otherwise,” Em finally said.</p>
<p>That outburst? Colson huffed, rubbing at his mouth again. Wasn’t much of one by his own volatile standards, he could acknowledge that. Not with him feeling this drained, or with the way Em shut it down. An ‘outburst’ usually ended with someone getting a mouthful of bloody teeth. </p>
<p>He inhaled and bounced his leg, the ache reminding him of something.</p>
<p>Glancing back over his shoulder self-consciously, Colson lowered his voice a little and said, “Sorry I kinda stole your sweats before I dipped out,” he said. It was the first thing that popped into his head after that. The pants he was still wearing that Em had insisted he borrow so he’d be more comfortable on the short drive back from his house. </p>
<p>Man, he was an idiot. </p>
<p>The older man was quiet for a few seconds, then he laughed quietly. “It’s ok, keep em if you want. You gonna answer the question or what?”</p>
<p>Colson rolled his eyes, rubbing a hand over his mouth, having had enough of his bottled up emotions for one day. “You really wanna know?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s why I fuckin’ asked,” Em said.</p>
<p>“Ok so… ‘Ultra-Honesty Kells’ here…”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” </p>
<p>“… like… I have not had a good day? And it’s low key your fault.”</p>
<p>Em hummed, seemingly unsurprised by the accusation. “Shit. What did I do?”</p>
<p>The way he asked struck Colson hard in the funnies, and despite the lecture he’d just been slapped with, he started giggling. Took a moment to find the words to explain <i>why</i> he was giggling. “Just like…like I’m talking about some random motherfucker. <i>The fuck that guy do?</i> Except it’s you. You’re the guy.”</p>
<p>The older man snorted. “What? I gotta find out what I supposedly did, right. Like is this a ‘I need to beat the motherfucker up’ situation or what?”</p>
<p>“Yes. Definitely,” Colson said, snickering into his fist. It felt good to just be joking around with him again, even if he did kinda just wanna curl into a ball and beat himself up for being such a toxic idiot. “Shit I can’t believe I spent all day all moody and shit, and I could have just asked you to punch yourself in the face for me. Would have fixed everything.”</p>
<p>“You can always ask.” Em said agreeably. “I’m not gonna <i>do it,</i> but…” Colson started giggling hard, and Em huffed a little. “So what did I do?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, you exist?” he complained, feeling lighter than he had all day. </p>
<p>“You sure about that?” Em clowned, sounding a little skeptical himself, forcing another giggle out of him. </p>
<p>“I just…” he rubbed his face again. “I just kinda got all… in my head a bunch, since I woke up.” The honesty of his previous statement was beginning to register a little, and he bounced his leg self-consciously. “Shit never mind. Blaming you for that stuff isn’t fair. It doesn’t matter anyway.”</p>
<p>Em hummed. “What stuff? Beef related stuff?”</p>
<p>Colson winced. “Not really, I don’t know. Shouldn’t have brought it up.”</p>
<p>“It’s gonna come up.” Em disagreed. “We need to talk about it?”</p>
<p>Considering how Colson thought, for whatever reason, that him leaving town would be the end of whatever this was, it surprised him a little to hear Em talk about things that were gonna ‘come up.’ Like in the future. It made him feel even worse about skipping town without saying a word. He guessed he did just get in his head, but was that really his fault? It <i>could</i> have just been a fling to Em. Like some sort of weird, sex-game dude-truce that they would never talk about again, right? Or maybe Colson was just high, and that wasn’t a thing at all. </p>
<p>Maybe Em’s lecture had been a little bit right.</p>
<p>He made a frustrated sound.</p>
<p>“I don’t know. Something like that did pop up but I’m over it,” he kinda lied. Knowing Em’s own history with the media really <i>coming for him</i> back in the MMLP days, his own brushes with libel seemed tame as hell. Bitching about it to him didn’t feel right. The desire to change the subject was so strong that he blurted the next thing that popped into his head without thinking about it hardly at all.</p>
<p>“I mean now my drummer, Rook… he knows we talked,” he blurted. “And that’s…” </p>
<p>Quiet for a moment. “That’s fine,” Em said, and Colson groaned. He guessed they were talking about it now. “I told Paul we talked.”</p>
<p>“<i>Is</i> it fine?” Colson grumbled, embarrassed, lowering his voice even though he could still hear drumming through the door. The drummer in question was fully occupied and by no means hearing this conversation. </p>
<p>“Yeah. You trust him not to tell your business right?”</p>
<p>Colson made a face. Did Em really not get it?</p>
<p>“Like you know he’s literally inside right now, waiting to hear ‘<i>what we said</i> that we are now <i>good</i>,’ and I don’t know what the fuck to tell him… “ The rest of what Em said filtered through. “Holy shit you told Paul Rosenberg? What the fuck did you say to him?”</p>
<p>Em fucking chuckled at that too. “You’re so damn cool all the time, right up until you think someone’s about to find out you’re a little bit gay.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he snapped. “Yeah let’s go there with it.”</p>
<p>“Relax, kiddo. I didn’t give Paul any <i>details</i>. He just knows for the sake of managerial shit, or whatever it is he does all day, that I’m not going to drop another diss any time soon. At least not at you. It’s cool. You gonna give this drummer of yours the whole story or what?”</p>
<p>Colson blushed. “He’s like… a close friend, you know? It’s not that easy to just be like ‘we good now’. He wants the play-by-play and how the fuck do I abridge that?”</p>
<p>“So tell him the truth.”</p>
<p>“Oh hell no.”</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>“The truth is embarrassing!”</p>
<p>Em huffed. “Only if you let it embarrass you… Everything kinda embarrasses you though. I can’t even count on two hands all the times I’ve seen you blush in the past few days. Just tell him you sucked my—”</p>
<p>“Em! Jesus, shut the fuck up.”</p>
<p>“Bet you’re blushing right now.”</p>
<p>He was. “You’re an ass. Punch yourself in the face for me, real quick?”</p>
<p>“Aw come on,” Em was clearly smiling, laughter all through his tone. Colson was stressing a little, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. </p>
<p>He sighed. “I just don’t know how cool he’d be about it, and I suck at lying, so I have to tell him something.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure if he’s the kind of friend you think he is, he already knows you,” Em said simply. “But you do what you’re comfortable with, either way, ok?”</p>
<p>Colson considered that. Much like he’d managed to distort Em’s character by overthinking, he was probably doing the same thing to Rook. “That… is a good point,” he conceded.</p>
<p>“This is what’s been ruining your day?” his idol asked, sounding genuinely curious.</p>
<p>Colson shrugged, though Em couldn’t see him. “It’s part of it…I think—“ he hesitated. “Kinda feels like that drop thing again…?”</p>
<p>“Probably,” Em said easily, though the admission had Colson’s heart pounding. “Wouldn’t surprise me at all. You really been sitting around feeling like that all day and not pick up the phone? Think I’d be ‘bothered’ by that too?”</p>
<p>Well if <i>that</i> wasn’t painfully accurate. “I was dealing with it,” he said after a moment.</p>
<p>“No,” Em disagreed. “Don’t do that again. Call me.”</p>
<p>Colson almost didn’t have words.</p>
<p>He really wasn’t used to people treating him that way, but each time Em did it, he let it happen with less and less fight. Em had a way of just cutting through the noise and taking over.</p>
<p>It kinda felt good.</p>
<p>“Okay?”</p>
<p>Colson exhaled. “Yeah,” he mumbled. </p>
<p>“I’m serious.”</p>
<p>“Shit, <i>okay</i>. Got it.” </p>
<p>“So, anyway, I wish you were still here,” Em continued, like he hadn’t just completely rocked Colson’s boat. “I could make you feel better.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Colson asked. “How’s that?”</p>
<p>“I got a few ideas. Inviting you to my studio was part of it. Figured you wouldn’t hate that.”</p>
<p>Colson made a little unhappy sound. He would have loved seeing Em’s studio in person. </p>
<p>“Or, I could take you somewhere a little less noisy and kiss your bruises better,” was the next suggestion, nonchalant and teasing. “Take care of you a little. Too late now, knew I should have done it last night. Didn’t wanna overwhelm you though.”</p>
<p>A little speechless that Em would take it there so unexpectedly, the younger rapper opted for covering his mouth with his hand rather than saying anything.</p>
<p>His imagination, of course, took it from there though. The mental image of Em looking up at him from between his legs, kissing his bruises to make them ‘better,’ was intensely erotic.</p>
<p>“Think you’d be up for that, next time?” Em added quietly, still just teasing him in that calm fucking voice, like they were discussing the weather, and not… <i>that</i>.</p>
<p><i>Next time</i>. Em was thinking about a next time. </p>
<p>His voice had an almost hypnotic effect on him, and the blond closed his eyes, growing a little hard just imagining what it would feel like to be kissed over the deep bruises causing him to feel so vulnerable all day. He huffed softly, humorlessly, not sure how to respond to that.</p>
<p>Em laughed too, but it was calm and confident and nothing at all like the strained sound Colson had just made. “Remember what I said about when you get quiet? Doesn’t sound too bad huh?”</p>
<p>Colson shifted a little. He did remember, and Em wasn’t wrong. The shape of Em’s mouth came to mind, and he remembered in detail how it had felt against his own. It wasn’t hard to imagine it elsewhere. </p>
<p>“You were so squirmy last night,” Em continued calmly. “All pressed up next to me making little pained sounds. Maybe it’s not right of me, but you looked so pretty with tears running down your face. I just wanted to kiss it all better.” </p>
<p>Colson must have made a sound, cus Em laughed again, and he could hear the smile in his voice as he added, “Kinda like when you came untouched from sucking me, eyes all wet and leaking. You’re fucking beautiful.”</p>
<p>He closed his eyes and took a little inhale through his nose, fully hard now. </p>
<p>“Em… Rook is like… on the other side of a door. I have to go back in there,” he said, trying to laugh it off, but it came out a little stringy.</p>
<p>Em hummed, a sort of mean sound that had him biting his lip. The older man had heard him loud and clear. Understood he was sitting there imagining all of that, and just a little more talking up away from embarrassing himself in front of his friend.</p>
<p>“My dirty mouth is a problem for you, huh Colson? Put you in a couple situations now. Guess I better shut up. Ain't just your eyes that get leaky when I'm mean to you.”</p>
<p><i>Jesus,</i> no one should be able to talk like that.</p>
<p>“But on second thought, if you walk in there with a wet patch on your pants, this Rook won’t need too many more details, right?” Em said, voice dropping into a sadistic timbre. “That’ll tell him exactly what kind of ‘talking’ we’re doing, and you won’t have to say a thing.”</p>
<p>Shit. Colson swore and glanced at his phone away from his face before bringing it back. “I gotta go now,” he said quickly.</p>
<p>Em laughed a little, sounding so fucking mean in Colson’s ears, so at odds with who he actually was. “Okay. Lemme know how the talk goes. Oh,” he added, like an afterthought. “If you wanna apologize for trying to ghost me, I’d love a selfie of you right now.” </p>
<p>And then he hung up.</p>
<p>Colson swore, pulling the phone away from his ear and rolling his head back in dismay. He stared off into space for about 30 seconds, then opened his front camera.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Always get so self conscious about the serious moments. Guess I'm just too novice of a writer. Anywho, tried not to overthink. Hope you liked it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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